


CIS Commandos

by Sereq_ieh_Dashret



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Antagonism, Background Character Death, Background Relationships, CIS Army, Child Soldiers, Cyborgs, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Freedom Fighters, Hacking, Kaleesh War, Multi, Neimodian characters, Past Child Abuse, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resolved Sexual Tension, Separatist characters, Social Justice, Social Media, Suicide Attempt, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Xenophilia, borderline Force-sensitive characters, giant insects, kaleesh society, lots of headcanons, military life, neimodian society, old EU Grievous backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 89,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6677512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sereq_ieh_Dashret/pseuds/Sereq_ieh_Dashret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a failed mission which nearly claimed both their lives, Commander Asajj Ventress and General Grievous realise they have more in common than they thought. Things change in the CIS Army and once some things are put in motion, they take a life of their own. Can the relationship between two leaders and the constitution of a new regiment change the fate of the war? AU from Clone Wars S3<br/>Originally posted on FF.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beaches of Naqdaa

**Author's Note:**

> This comes from an idea I had after watching the Clone Wars S3 episode ARC Commandos depicting the Separatist Assault on Kamino, in which there is the infamous scene in which Asajj Ventress rejects Grievous' offer of help.  
> My boyfriend saw it and was like: "Poor general, that was the worst flirt attempt ever."
> 
> It got me thinking about why would the Grievousl flirt with Ventress, apart from the obvious (I mean, look at her!)  
> Then I was idling my time away on wookieepedia and read that before he became a cyborg, Grievous had had a very tight relationship with a female battle-buddy/lover/wife, Ronderu lij Kummar, which was as kickass as him and very much an independent woman.  
> It made sense that he would be drawn to the one female character which shared the same sort of characteristics.
> 
> It also made sense that he would feel lonely and isolated and ever more angry because of this.  
> If you think about it, apart from Sidious and Dooku, which are without excuses, most of the Darksiders are traumatized, isolated and abandoned and become evil to get revenge/grow stronger than their persecutors/etc...  
> Maybe, I thought, if you take away the isolation and give them positive personal relationships, they will behave in a different way: show more empathy, be more responsible for the people they lead. This is also where my OCs, the Gunners, come into play.
> 
> I suppose the whole point of this fic, apart from some shits and giggles, is that isolation destroys empathy and makes people worse than they would be.
> 
> I am going with the comic-verse version of the first time the two main characters met, namely when Dooku lured Asajj Ventress and Durge onto a space station where Grievous was waiting with orders to PWN anyone who got in. It didn't end well for Asajj and Durge.  
> I am assuming the assault on Kamino was not the first time they had to collaborate and that Dooku enjoys seeing them go at each other's throat.
> 
> I am also taking a plot point from an alternate version of why did Grievous end up as a cyborg, which said that he had been rejected from Jedi training (possibly after trying as a youngling). I am going with the "blown up with all his comrades in a spaceship explosion" explanation from Labirynth of Evil and the comic Eyes of the Revolution, but I'm keeping the nearly-Forceful-but-not-quite angle. It explains neatly how him and Ronderu were able to fight "as one" during the Huk wars. It might seem a lazy solution to some issues, but, hey, things are hard enough like this.
> 
> Finally, I know a lot of people loathe this pairing, but I can't care less.

The tri-wing shuttle glided silently through space.  
Even on the inside, the spaceship was eerily quiet, the gloomy silence broken only by the laboured breathing of the white-armoured cyborg sitting in the pilot's seat.  
At the back of the shuttle, a few of his Magna Guards huddled in standby mode, but they made no sound and didn't interact with him in any way.  
Usually, Grievous was pleased about this state of affairs: he didn't particularly like talking to droids outside of work, before people missed the difference, and, in any case, it wasn't as if droids had actually something interesting to say.  
As a result, the fact that whoever had assembled and programmed his Magna Guards had failed to enable them to talk was usually welcome, but in that particular moment it felt... wrong.

There should be voices at the back of his ship: idle chatter, laughter, even songs.  
If he just closed his eyes he could almost hear them, like a sound at the edge of his hearing range.

_A golden voice singing a love song, accompanied by a string instrument, and another, darker and deeper, trying to sing over it, transforming the song into a rowdy, bawdy shanty._  
_Other voices laughing and someone complaining about how he was driving and he replied that he was driving like that because they had wanted to get there fast, and if he had to drive like the other wanted, they'd get there in a month..._

He could almost recognise the voices and the faces to which they belonged, but as soon as he tried to concentrate on them, they slipped between his fingers like so much sand.  
Grievous cursed and thumped his fist against the controls, feeling an acute sense of loss fill him. Loss of what, he could not say, but it hurt and he was thoroughly fed up with hurting.  
He gunned his ship to full speed and veered towards an asteroid field nearby, zipping between the first few floating boulders without even pausing for thought.  
All his concentration and his cybernetic-enhanced reflexes were required just to pick the best course in a series of split-second decisions. He had no time to delve on the past, no time to feel anything but the adrenalin pumping frantically through what was left of his veins, and the glorious, heady sensation of living in the moment.

He was supposed to return to base on Raxus Secundus after his earlier meeting with Count Dooku, but he really wanted to see who would have the nerve to begrudge him a bit of free time.  
It was not like he had a life, outside his service in the Separatist army, he thought wistfully, traversing a relatively free section of the field.  
Blessedly, the asteroids clustered again on his path, packed like trees in a forest, and he didn't have any more time to think, only to react, turning left and right, climbing or dropping in fractions of a second to avoid collisions and once even going straight through a gap in an asteroid which was barely large enough to let the shuttle through. It wasn't like flying on the Soulless One, but it was still good.  
The sheer frustration of living an artificial life didn't have any space in those blessed moments when he could just be, break the leash and burn through life like there was no tomorrow. He could even forget for a moment the metal body that was both unescapable prison and weapon to him.

Obviously enough, his commlink started to beep, dragging him back to the real world.  
Sighing, he veered out of the field and tapped the controls to allow the holo-call through. A bluish, translucent rendition of Count Dooku's aquiline profile materialised over the control panel.  
Grievous sighed again. What did the old man want from him already? He had just left his private residence on Serenno after a thorough debriefing and an equally thorough beating on the training arena, and, to be perfectly honest, he had had enough of the human aristocrat to last him for at least a few weeks.  
"General. - Dooku greeted with a sketchy nod - I have just received news from commander Tok Ashel. It looks like we have a situation on Naqdaa."  
"A situation?" Grievous inquired. The only thing he knew about the planet was that the Neimoidian had been sent there with an expeditionary corps to occupy it and appropriate its useful, if unspecified, natural resources.  
Dooku limited himself to a nod by way of explanation. "I want you to get there promptly, relieve commander Ashel and complete the mission." he instructed in that haughty, high-handed tone of his that was often enough to nearly send him flying off the handle.  
Grievous held tight to his fraying self-control and nodded obediently because he had no other choice. It had been the Separatists who had payed to put him back together after the Jedi had blown him to pieces, and it was still them who were sending money and relief to his kin, down on Kalee.  
He had a debt of honour and otherwise with them, so he had to obey and endure whatever humiliation, small or not so small, they decided to heap on him.  
"Yes, my lord." he managed to rasp.  
Dooku nodded again, looking pleased with his obedience. "I am sending you the coordinates for the hyperspace jump and some briefing material. I expect you to be there in under a standard hour." he declared and, just like that, he cut the communication.

Grievous allowed himself to curse loudly in frustration and cut the communication from his side as well.  
Promptly another electronic beep informed him that there was an incoming data transfer. He sighed and accepted it. The files pinged in his terminal in a handful of seconds.  
Grievous copied the stellar coordinates file to the shuttle's navigation system and watched it calculate the route. It would take him a bit before he had to jump straight into the upper atmosphere of Naqdaa.  
Sighing again, he activated the autopilot, letting it take the ship to his ingress in the lane. Meanwhile, he opened the other, decidedly bigger, file and started poring over his quite detailed contents.  
Whoever had done the reconaissance for that particular mission had done a thorough and commendable job. The forested terrain had been carefully assessed, the defence systems accounted for, and the buildings and infrastructures that would constitute primary and secondary targets of the expedition clearly identified on the map. There were even static holos of several key features of the operations area.

The planet was inhabited by a technologically advanced, man-sized, insectoid race, which could field high numbers of troops from the warrior and drone castes, armed with their natural pincers and spikes and with blasters. There was a holo of one of the Naqdaan footsoldiers enclosed in the briefing: they looked like Huk enough to make his metaphorical hackles rise, and make him itch to squash the blasted buggers to a paste.  
The material was clear enough and the task looked straightforward, but leave it to a greedy Neimoidian to make everything go tits up...  
He would bet that the idiot had let himself be distracted by secondary objectives to plunder, instead of ploughing straight to the palace and getting rid of the leadership and the nests.  
And, obviously, the idiotic commander had not fully reported on the current situation on the ground, in a pathetic attempt to cover his incompetence, so he would have to go in blind...  
Grievous tried to calm himself by taking deep breaths, but that only triggered the cough that lurked in his chest ever since the accident, making him feel even more frustrated. He repressed the impulse to scream or break something. There would be plenty of targets for his anger on Naqdaa.

Fifty-two standards minutes later, Grievous' shuttle decanted from hyperspace near the outer fringe of the atmosphere of Naqdaa. He could discern a ring-shaped Neimoidian battleship stationed nearby in blockade position, supported by a couple of frigates.  
Everything seemed calm in that sector at the moment, but it was evident that the ships had seen some heavy action. Repair droids were swarming on one of the frigates , the Hidden Stinger, busily sealing shut a sizable gap in its outer cladding. The battleship was in a remarkably similar predicament.  
The other frigate, an older model whimsically named Auntie Fist, appeared to be minus one of her hyperspace engines. She could still jump, probably, but he wouldn't want to try himself.  
Grievous switched on the comm and tapped in the main operations frequency, sending a holocall request to the flagship.  
A Neimoidian officer promptly answered, looking sick with worry.  
"What an unexpected pleasure, General... - he said, looking and sounding anything but pleased - Do you require any assistance?" he added, nervously wringing his bony hands.  
"Are you commander Tok Ashel?" Grievous asked curtly, pleased and irritated at the same time by the Neimoidian's reaction to his call.  
"No, sir." he quickly replied, shaking his head. His silly and pretentious flowerbud headdress wobbled and nearly fell. "I'm..."  
"I don't care who you are. - Grievous interrupted, glaring daggers at the Neimodian - Where is your commanding officer?"  
The Neimodian squeaked before he could fully control himself. "H-he's gone planetside with the troops. - he managed to reply - He should be at the airstrip now. I can give you his coordinates..." he offered.  
Grievous nodded and the file promptly pinged on his dashboard. Not too far from his current position, he noted with satisfaction.  
"You can find him on frequency 4.7 MHz. Do you want me to alert him that you are looking for him?" the officer proposed timidly.  
"You will do nothing of that sort. - Grievous barked - And if I discover you have disobeyed my orders, once I'm finished down there, I'll personally come looking for you, understood?"  
The Neimoidian started seriously hyperventilating and nodded, muttering a compilation of "Yessir... Nosir... I would never... I assure you..."  
Nauseated by his cowardice, Grievous cut the communication and locked the navigation system to Tok Ashel's supposed coordinates.  
The shuttle started the descent through the atmosphere.

Down there it was early afternoon, and the system's bright yellow sun was shining merrily over the forested canopy of the equator of the planet, where the action was concentrated around the capital.  
Soon he could make out a strip of bare land wedged between what looked like plantations interspersed with factories and a strip of sandy beaches lining a bay at the end of which a big port was situated.  
Grievous deactivated the autopilot and took command once again, activating the cloaking.  
The ship descended fast and circled the area once.  
What looked like a bitterly contested fight was still going on in the few square miles comprised between the airstrip, the port and the first factory, a warren of tropical vegetation, marshland and sand, and it looked like the droids under Tok Ashel's command had been cut off from their landing, and were currently trying to break the Naqdaan defences back towards the airstrip.  
The small rearguard stationed at the airstrip was huddled among the hangars and under heavy fire from the air, where clusters of winged insectoids were hovering and firing extralarge blaster. A ring of blaster-armed footsoldiers was trying to encircle their position.  
The Naqdaan had let the males out of the hive, it seemed.  
According to the reconnaissance, the males would be hungry and frenzied, and they would fight like demons for all their short lifespan, before dropping down dead in a few days. They were also big enough to carry away a Neimoidian or a battle droid. It would surely make things more interesting, so to speak...

Grievous sent the ship in a nosedive, then veered at the last moment to careen through the pack of winged assailants. The smacks and thuds of their chitinous bodies against the ship's cladding sent a ripple of satisfaction through him.  
Down on the airstrip, the Naqdaan seemed confused by the fact that their males had been smashed off the sky by an invisibile force.  
The droid troopers didn't react, probably their programming didn't know how to deal with the unexpected occurrence, but a few organic troopers, a bit more spirited, jumped out of their covers and promptly dispatched those of the males that were still moving, before the Naqdaan could form a coherent reaction.  
Grievous thought he had seen a glimpse of red among the confusion. There must be one of Dooku's wannabe Sith on the field.  
He veered again and deactivated the cloaking, circling low over the defenders and strafing the Naqdaans once before landing as close as possible to the cover of the buildings.  
"Prepare to deploy! We're under enemy fire!" he commanded the Magna Guards. The droids reactivated from standby mode, red photoreceptors blinking and stabilising on a ruby glow.  
He didn't actually need to speak to them to command them, he could just use the wireless antennas the Geonosians had implanted on him to communicate soundlessly with his troops, but he was reluctant to do it, unless the situation strictly required it.  
Talking to his droid bodyguards helped him keep up the illusion that those were actually his best, most loyal warriors, the men who would willingly follow him to Hell and back, and not just some stupid, soulless contraptions programmed to do his bidding.  
Sometimes he thought that these small deceptions were the only things keeping him even remotely sane.

When he jumped off the ship, Magna Guards in tow, the small rearguard had reorganised itself enough to give them cover with suppressing fire from a mounted blaster cannon, still a couple of blaster bolts managed to chip the cyborg's white armour.  
"Who is in charge here?" Grievous asked, taking in the handful of still operational droids and the group of battered and tired Neimoidian Gunners. Tok Ashel must think highly of himself to have requisitioned so many of Neimoidia's finest, such as they were. These ones looked even more scrawny and pathetic than usual, but at least they were holding their own.  
"I am." a husky, female voice answered.  
His least unfavourite Dark Acolyte slinked out of the shadows, twilrling her twin ruby sabers before deactivating them.  
Asajj Ventress' fine-featured face was drawn and tired, and her white skin stained with blue-ish insect blood. As usual, she was wearing as little as she could get away with: a blue crop top that left her back uncovered, a long dark skirt and some wrappings around her arms and midriff. She stalked towards him with an irritated expression, her skirt twirling around her legs and her bare feet.  
Grievous couldn't help but let his eyes wander and was rewarded with a glimpse of a slender and shapely ankle.  
She was as beautiful as she was deadly, and as deadly as she was insolent. The damned witch could always make him feel extremely confused and frustrated, so much that most of the time he didn't know whether he hated her, or wanted her, or both at the same time.

"What are you doing here, witch? And where is Tok Ashel?" he asked, trying to set aside his personal concerns, and to consider the situation dispassionately.  
Did Dooku send her in as well in another attempt to pit them against each other? For all his wisdom and Dark Side knowledge, the human aristocrat didn't seem able to grasp the fact that a divided command could only result in failure.  
Asajj Ventress shrugged her slim shoulders. "Who knows where the idiot is at the moment? - she replied, among the silent grimaces of the Gunners - He is trapped in the port, or dead, as far as I know."  
"What possessed him to attack the blasted port in the first place?!" Grievous exclaimed, already exasperated.  
The witch shrugged her shoulders again. "Durasteel ore. There was a large shipment of it lying in port." she replied. Grimacing in disgust, she wiped a splatter of blue-ish ichor from her face. "Blasted bugs..." she muttered.  
"It was a trap." Grievous stated without doubt.  
"Anyone but a greedy idiot would have figured that out." Asajj replied, nodding curtly.  
"And Tok Ashel is a greedy idiot." Grievous concluded, taking out his blaster and briefly emerging from the cover of the hangar to add a few bolts of his own to the storm that was raging on both sides. It wasn't as satisfying as spraying pieces of bug around in a radius of few feet with a high-caliber slugthrower rifle, but it was still effective.  
The witch nodded again, picking up a rifle from a fallen Gunner lying on the ground dead and shrivelled and chipping in with a few shots of her own.  
"This still does not explain what you are doing here." Grievous insisted, flattening himself against the cover of the building once again. It wasn't the tightest corner he had ever found himself in, but it was quite bad.  
"I was in the area and overheard the emergency comms. - she explained - After all the effort I put into this blasted mission, I couldn't let that grub ruin it without doing anything."  
"The reconnaissance! It was you..." Grievous commented, not too surprised to tell the truth.  
She was a perceptive and capable witch, after all. There were few other CIS officers he would have thought of as possible authors of the briefing material.  
In fact, if she was not such an insolent bitch, he could even enjoy her company: she was a competent officer, could hold her own in a battle and had enough devious imagination to outwit the Republicans. It wouldn't be too bad working with her, if not for her lack of respect.

"Ah, so someone has actually read my report..." she purred, spraying the Naqdaan with more blaster fire.  
"Well, obviously! Who would go into an operations theatre without having read the intelligence?" Grievous retorted, rather piqued. The witch gave him a sidelong glance, which told him everything he needed to know.  
"Ah, why did I ask?" he lamented, rolling his eyes.  
"So, how long has Dooku been keeping you in reserve for this mission?" she asked, looking at him with interest.  
After more than a year living like that, Grievous had got to know all the kinds of looks people gave him: the disdainful glance of those who thought that his mostly mechanical nature made him less than they were, the complete avoidance to look in his direction, the quick side-glances of those who didn't want to look but were unable to repress their morbid fascination. Only few people truly looked at him, and even less truly saw him. The witch was one of those few and he didn't know whether to be pleased or disquieted by the intensity of her regard.

Setting these thoughts aside, Grievous took aim down the barrel of his blaster and exploded the head of a Naqdaan with a shot through a composite eye. "About an hour. I was going back to base on Raxus Secundus when he commed me about this mess." he rasped. She considered him for a moment but did not comment.  
Something hissed in the distance and they dove for the ground just in time before an RPG shell took out a chunk of the wall behind which they had been hiding.

"Fucking bugs!" Asajj cursed, nearly facedown among the rubble.

"Trade your gun with mine, witch." Grievous proposed, offering his blaster pistol to the woman.  
She readily handed him the unwieldy Neimoidian rifle and took the proffered pistol, settling down to shoot with much more gusto than before.  
Grievous shouldered the big gun and crept to the edge of the cover, scanning the crowd of Naqdaans in search of the commanding officers.  
"The thinner one with the green headdress." the Dark Jedi suggested.  
Grievous nodded and raised the gun, sighting the bug.  
He took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. The bolt went straight through the bug-in-chief's head and it fell to the ground.  
Grievous shot five more times and five more bugs died, including the one carrying the RPG.  
It felt so natural to shoot like that, with the stock of the rifle pressed against his shoulder and his mask. He couldn't for the life of him remember when he had learned to do that, it felt like he had always known. The gun didn't recoil in his hands and all the way into his shoulder as he squeezed the trigger like a slughthrower would do, but the feeing was close enough. It made him feel ages younger.  
"That's some impressive shooting..." the witch commented appreciatively, and for a moment he felt inordinately proud of himself, like a fifteen-year-old, just awarded his warrior's mask, who had managed to impress a girl from his village.  
"It is a pity they don't program this sort of aim into all battle droids..." she added with a knowing smirk and a wink.  
All his good humor disappeared in a moment, dissolved by a red-hot wash of rage and indignation. Grievous took a menacing step towards her, but her smirk didn't disappear.  
He should kill her... He would kill her...

Another RPG shell came whistling in and they both ducked for cover, their enmity momentarily forgotten.  
Fired in hasty retaliation, the shell went high and wide...  
High and wide enough that it hit one of the engines of Grievous' shuttle. The fuel ignited and the explosion was big enough to send all that were not already kissing the permacrete sprawling to the ground, and to deafen everyone.  
Grievous shook his head to try and clear it. "I liked that shuttle, you buggers!" he yelled, popping up long enough to shoot and drop the Naqdaan holding the RPG.  
A few shots whizzed his way, but he was already behind cover.  
"You on the roof! - he shouted to the few Gunners posted there with their rifles - Drop any bug that so much breathes near that bloody RPG, understood?"  
"Yes, Sir!" someone yelled in response and the blaster bolts started whizzing back and forth with renewed purpose.  
"Everyone else, I want suppressing fire on those buggers! Don't let them pop their heads from the grass! This includes you with that cannon! Don't spare any shots, but make them count!" he instructed, ignoring the pointed looks the witch was giving him. There would be time to deal with her later, after he had gotten them all out of this mess.  
A mixed chorus of "Roger, roger!" and "Yessir!" responded to his orders.  
Grievous nodded with a hint of satisfaction: that would give him a bit of time to invent something.  
"What's in the hangars?" he asked the witch, without even turning to look at her.  
"Sorry?" she replied. Her voice sounded confused.  
Grievous turned towards her frowning face. "What. Is. In. The. Bloody. Hangars?" he repeated, nice and slow, so that even a stupid bitch like her could understand.  
She shot him a hateful glance, but replied anyway. "Just some cargo landspeeders."  
"Big?" he asked.  
"Big." she confirmed even though she kept on frowning.  
"And armoured?" he insisted.  
"Lightly, but what...?" she protested, then her icy eyes widened in realisation. "Ah! I think I know what you mean to do, clanker boy..." she almost purred, dark lips curved in a predatory smile.  
Grievous decided to ignore the nickname, he could always add it to her tally and set the account right at a later time.  
"Then jury rig as many as you can. You have about twenty standard minutes." he instructed.  
The witch nodded. "I'll see if I can find some flammable material as well."  
Grievous felt a twinge of fierce satisfaction at that exchange. It had been a while since someone went along with his plans without him even having to fully explain them. It looked like him and the witch were on the same page. It was a rare boon.  
"Take Three and Four with you, in case there is heavy lifting to do. - he instructed, gesturing to two of his bodyguards - I don't want your physical weakness to interfere with the success of the mission." he added, as neutrally as he could, even though he was secretly pleased to be able to get back at her. He just couldn't help himself.  
The witch grimaced but took the insult with apparent good grace.  
"Be back in twenty." she confirmed, slinking away into the shadows between the buildings. The two Magna Guards tailed her, softly clanking as they moved.  
Grievous forced himself to get his thought back on track and set aside his problems with the witch. First things first, he told himself, and in this case it was evacuating whatever troops he had left to regroup and mount a new assault later.

"Who's the comm officer here?" he shouted.  
A Gunner crawled away from his piece of cover, low on the ground but with the rifle tight in his hands. Maybe this lot had received better training than most, Grievous mused.  
"Comm's dead, sir! - the Gunner said, jerking his head towards the shrivelled corpse from which Asajj had taken the rifle - Down on first assault, poor sod. I've got the comm apparatus for now." he added, shaking his head mournfully. Maybe that had been a friend.  
"Get it on 4.7 MHz and get whoever is left in command at the port, as quick as you can!" Grievous ordered, turning back to the fight and selecting a target.  
One of the buggers was inching towards the RPG, low enough in the grass to be barely visible.  
Grievous sighted it, waited for the right moment... and someone from the roof stole his kill.  
"Ha! Eat this, bloody buggers!" a young voice shouted in triumph.  
Slightly miffed, but still pleased that the Gunners were actually following his orders, Grievous switched target and let fly, dropping another grenadier wannabee.  
"Whoever made that shot, you'll get double rations once we're back to base!" he shouted.  
For some reason, food was always a powerful motivator and reward for Neimoidians. His proclaim was saluted by a chorus of yells of joy and envy. Now they would all be trying harder.  
Grievous sighed. It was much easier and more satisfying to lead organic troops in battle. They had purpose, motivation, and most important, talent. With the right command, they could succeed in spite of numerical odds, out of superior training, enthusiasm and sheer faith in their own success. The Republican troops kept on pulling that sort of stunts, much to his chagrin.

"I've got him, sir!" the newly minted comm officer announced, looking at him with pride for a job well done. He seemed completely unfazed by the bolts whizzing and ricocheting around.  
Grievous thought he must have happened on a weird bunch of Neimoidians.  
"Put him through." he ordered.  
The Gunner nodded and flipped the holo-switch. A translucent Neimoidian figure with a stupid headdress appeared.  
"General Grievous, I'm Commander Den Lotok." he said, looking quite harried.  
"Where is Tok Ashel?" Grievous barked.  
The Neimoidian cringed visibly. "He is... indisposed at the moment." he replied, wringing his hands so much that it must have hurt.  
The idiot was either dead or too scared to bother answering the comm, Grievous deduced.  
"I'm taking command of this circus from now, Commander Lotok. - he announced - I don't know what Ashel might have told you, but this mission has failed. The position is untenable."  
Lotok looked like he might have protested, but Grievous didn't leave him the opportunity to do so.  
"Listen to me, you greedy idiot! - he bellowed - We're split in half and nearly surrounded, and there is no aerial support. Be ready to leave your positions at my signal. We'll break the encirclement and regroup here at the airstrip. I'll arrange for pickup with the flagship." he ordered.  
The Neimoidian cringed and mumbled something generally affirmative.  
Irritated, Grievous signalled to the comm officer to cut the call, which he promptly did.  
"Creep up to your mates, officer, and tell them to be ready for action. - he instructed as quietly as he could - I want the best snipers to stay on the roof whatever happens. Everyone else, wait for my orders. Go! Head down and be quiet! I don't want the buggers to overhear." he added.  
The Gunner nodded affirmatively, did a sketchy salute and crawled back to his comrades. Grievous saw them start to chat with those weird Neimoidian hand-signs, then one of them broke away from the group and crept quietly to the next pocket of Gunners. How oddly competent...

Grievous used his own comm to call the unnamed officer from the flagship. The poor sod looked even less happy to see him than before.  
"The mission is being aborted, commander. - he announced as quietly as the vocabulator allowed - I want all troop-carrier craft you can spare at the airstrip in 45 standard minutes. Aerial support would be nice too."  
The Neimoidian could only nod. "But, General... We lost many gunships in the landing and in the hauling of the ore."  
Grievous would have ground his teeth in irritation if he had been able to.  
"I surmised so. Send what you can, anything that can hold troops, and be on time." he ordered, glowering at the hologram.  
With a sketchy bow, the officer cut the communication.  
Grievous turned back to the fight and unleashed his frustration on the Naqdaan. Soon he would be able to tear them apart close and personal, but, for the moment, punching them full of holes would suffice.

The twenty standard minutes he had given the witch were nearly over when she slinked back to his position to report.  
"We've got four trucks ready to roll." she announced, smirking and cleaning her grease-stained hands on her skirt.  
"Any payload?" Grievous asked, crouching next to her.  
"Only few gallons each, but it's spacecraft fuel." she replied with a certain satisfaction.  
"Can't ask for better." he approved, with what would have been a smirk of his own, if he'd had a mouth to smirk with still.  
He gestured to the comm officer and the Neimoidian crawled back to them.  
"Time to make that call, officer." he announced. The lad nodded eagerly and set out to work, coding the frequency a bit clumsily but fast enough. With a bit of training, he'd make a pretty good officer.  
"Who's driving them?" the witch asked, jerking her head towards the rigged trucks.  
Grievous glanced at the handful of B1 droids he had at his disposal, considering, then discarded that thought. They would need all the firepower they could use.  
"We'll rig the steering. - he replied - They only need to go straight."  
"Can you do that?" she doubted, quirking an eyebrow and pouting slightly.  
"A kid could do that. Let's go." he replied, darting out of cover and towards the hangars. The witch, Three and Four followed him in single file.  
As expected, the cargo speeders were a fairly common model, used by enterprises all over the Galaxy.  
Grievous ripped a section of steel pipe from the wall of the hangar and jammed it between the spokes of the steering wheel, bending at the ends so that it would not dislodge.  
"Is this it?" the witch asked disdainfully.  
Grievous shrugged and moved to the next truck. "It's not hyperspace science. It only needs to work for a short while. - he replied - Assmble everyone here except the snipers and the droid operating the cannon."  
The witch nodded and ran out.

By the time he had finished with the trucks, all his troops, minus the ones on sniper or artillery detail, were assembled in the hangar.  
It was probably high time for a rousing speech. He hadn't given any speech to his troops in what felt like forever. What is the point of making the effort, when one's command is made entirely out of droids, who don't actually have a morale?  
But now there were the Gunners and the witch and it felt as good an occasion as any to give it a try.  
Grievous cleared his non-existent throat in a reflexive gesture for which he mentally berated himself straight afterwards.  
Everyone was looking at him expectantly, but none more than the witch, who, judging from her amused little smirk, seemed to be intentioned to see him make a fool of himself.  
"Soldiers! - he started in an almost conversational tone, linking his hands behind his back to prevent himself from gesticulating - The situation is quite bad, I won't hide it. You have seen it for yourselves: the troops in the port are isolated and we are outnumbered. We need to find a way of reconnecting with the main body of the expedition for evacuation, before we're overrun." he explained and he could see that his words did nothing to kindle the enthusiasm of the troops.  
What was he supposed to say to a bunch of people and droids he barely knew? How was he supposed to bridge the gulf between them?  
"You've all been very brave in the face of danger and kept this position despite numerical odds. You've worked hard, and now I'm going to have to ask you another big effort, but I'm doing this because I know you can can make it. - he continued, making it up as he went along - We need to break the front and help our comrades from the port through. I know we're few, but if you follow me, we'll make it through. Do you know what are these?" he asked in a fit of inspiration, pointing to the trucks.  
Among the troops there was a moment of confusion.  
"Ermmm... Trucks, sir?" one of the Gunners tentatively answered.  
"No, soldier. - Grievous retorted - These are traps. You see, Commander Ventress here has kindly stuffed them full of fuel." he explained, nodding politely in the witch's direction. Better if the troops saw a united command.  
The witch nodded back, looking pleased about the acknowledgement. "We'll send them forth, - he continued - the buggers will concentrate their fire on them and... Kaboom! as they say..."  
His troops started to giggle and snort in anxiety-fueled battlefield hilarity.  
"We'll only have to march in after them to mop up the survivors. - Grievous reassured - Commander Ventress and I will go out and play a bit and you will give us cover. How do you like this plan?" he asked genially.  
For some reason the Gunners roared their approval and he couldn't help but feel a little bit proud, not just of himself, but also of them.  
"Then let's go, lads! - he exhorted - Skirmish formation! Light on your feet and look out for incoming fliers! And get ready to do an about-face when we contact the others!"  
There was another chorus of yells as the troops formed up behind the trucks.  
"Three, Seven, open the doors!" Grievous ordered, dashing to the first truck, ready to switch it on.  
The hangar doors started creaking on their hinges and opened painfully slow. As soon as the outside light could filter in, blaster bolts started zipping in their direction. The doors were too slow!  
"Topside! Fire at will!" Asajj yelled, unleashing enough Force to bend the metal door outwards.  
Grievous switched on the first truck, toggled the acceleration dial to full speed and broke it with a punch. He had barely time to leap off, before the vehicle shot away at full steam.  
"Witch! Hold it!" he yelled, seeing Ventress move to the next truck. He mentally counted to twenty, factoring in the speed if the truck, the distance of the Naqdaan infantry and the radius of the blast.  
"Now!" he ordered, then. The second truck shot past him as the first explosion made itself heard.  
"Third ready!" yelled one of the Gunners, balancing on the step of the cabin.  
Grievous counted again, raising a hand to still the eager trooper.  
"Now!" he yelled at the count of fifteen and the lad did a quick job of the switch, disable and tumble off routine.  
"Four ready!" another of the lads announced, full of vim and enthusiasm. He hadn't even needed to give the order to those two.  
They just... followed the flow, just connected in a way that had not happened to him in years.  
In that moment, that mixed bag of Gunners and B1s were really his, more than any command he had had in the CIS.

Grievous made him hold as well, peeking around the wrecked door to assess the situation.  
The witch dashed closer to him and took a look herself.  
The buggers had stopped firing at the trucks, but their formation was in disarray. Some troopers were trying to steer the surviving track away, while the snipers on the roof were happily taking pot shots at them.  
"Now!" he ordered out loud, while he transmitted to the droid operating the cannon an order to fire at the trucks as they approached the line.  
The first shot sid nothing more than a dent in the bodywork. The Naqdaan tried to move away from it quickly then, but the B1 corrected its aim, or maybe just got lucky, and the following shot took out the fuel tank.  
The truck went up in a fireball, just as the following one swerved in on a dodgy propulsor, mowing down a few more Naqdaans, before the droid blew that up as well.  
The grass between the hangars and the beach was now littered with pieces of bugs and smoking wrecks, shining bright in the General's heat-sense.

"Time to join the party..." the witch commented. She ripped off her long, flowing skirt in a decisive and almost careless movement.  
Grievous couldn't help but stare at her: she was now wearing the shortest pair of shorts he had ever seen on a grown woman and more wrappings, but nothing else. Her legs were long and shapely and the curve of her hips...  
He wasn't supposed to notice that! She wasn't even from the same species as him and he was only formally male, as it were, thanks to the accident, and yet he could not help looking and liking what he saw.  
To be honest, he had realised that he liked her _that_ particular way months before, and that was one of the reasons why working with her was so frustrating.  
It took a certain effort for him to steer his thoughts back on track and, judging from the knowing wink she gave him, she had noticed his appreciation, and for some reason it didn't squick her.  
Embarrassed and confused, he pointedly ignored her pleased little smirk and turned to the troops.  
"How do you like your bugs, soldiers?" he yelled, drawing one of his sabers.  
"Crispy!" the Gunners roared, raising their guns.  
"Then let's go! For the CIS!" Grievous bellowed, breaking into a run, towardw the enemy lines.  
"For the CIS!" his troops replied.  
He could hear them follow him at a trot, bronze armour clinking and mechanical parts whirring.  
The sense of connectedness, of belonging, returned, lifting his spirits even higher.

The witch dashed to his side, ruby sabers out and a broad grin on her face. Grievous took note of her position, then they both contacted the enemy.  
He hadn't bothered drawing his other sabers and simply barreled into his first few targets, relying on his mass and speed to topple them.  
His left fist smashed the exoskeleton of a riflebug and he felt the impact all the way into his arm. It felt extremely satisfying.  
The bugs ganged up on him and soon he found himself at the center of a maelstrom of carnage and mayhem. He kicked and punched, kneed and elbowed, pushed and tore at anything that came close, activating his lightsaber only occasionally to impale or behead a particularly pesky foe. He was aware of everything that happened around him: every sound, every image, every minute vibration of the air around him or the ground under his feet was sharp and crystal clear. He sensed, assessed and reacted so fast that his enemies seemed to move in slow motion.  
These were the moments when he truly felt alive.

"Having fun, General?" the witch yelled over the din of the battle. The broad grin plastered on her pale face told him how much she was feeling the rush of the fight herself.  
"Aren't you, witch?" he yelled in response and she grinned again, dispatching another Naqdaan with a precise jab to the neck, before leaping to her next targets.  
Between them, they had mowed the Naqdaan down like grass in the fields.  
All around them, Gunners and B1s were doing a decent job of picking off the bugs one by one.  
Disheartened and badly mangled, the Naqdaan contingeny was retreating. Down the beach the main body of troops from the port was advancing steadily, held off by more bugs. Between his troops and the beach was a patch of thick brush. The defenders on the beach didn't seem to have caught on to their counterattack.  
Grievous exchanged a brief glance with the witch, who nodded.  
"Let the cowards go, lads!" he yelled to his troops, while he and the witch moved to the cover of a low wall that followed part of the course of a brackish canal that sneaked into the brush.  
"Regroup here and take a breather. We're not done yet. We need to help the rest break through on the beach!"  
"But the bugs that escaped! They're going to get reinforcements!" one of the Gunners protested, as he crouched behind the new cover.  
"We'll be gone before the reinforcements arrive." Asajj reassured. Grievous nodded in approval.  
The Gunner quieted and settled down with his comrades to get a quick break.

"Any bright ideas now, clanker boy?" the witch whispered.  
They were packed tight enough in that rut that she was nearly touching him and that he felt the warmth of her breath as she spoke and could smell the scent of her skin: blood, sweat and something sweet and inhebriating that was just her.  
After having grown unused to any proximity, it unsettled him.  
In general, he couldn't figure out if he wanted it, or if it would be better for him to be left alone. With her, however, the balance always shifted towards wanting it.  
He could still remember how smooth and warm her skin had felt when he grasped her arm during the attack on Kamino, how her hand had nearly seared him as she touched his mask. Her words of rejection had stung even more for that.  
She kept on allowing him close enough to hope, only to reject him if he tried to be nice with her. It was maddening, and she knew it, he was sure.  
That must be the reason why she kept pushing the boundaries. It looked like aggressive flirting, but it was just another form of humiliation.  
It couldn't be anything else.  
Not with him.  
And yet he couldn't stop wanting her.

"We need to attract some fire on us to allow the troops from the port through." he replied, feeling weary.  
sense of belonging he had felt during the charge was dissipating quickly, leaving him stranded and isolated as usual.  
"Hit and run?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
"Naturally. Hit hard, run fast, and do it again is the secret of success in situations like this." he retorted sharply.  
The witch nodded and smirked again. "I like your approach to things." she said almost sweetly.  
"Stop mocking me." he hissed, getting closer to the end of his tether again.  
"I am not mocking you, general." she replied softly and placidly, looking straight at him with eyes like the sky just before dawn.  
"It would be easier to work with you if you weren't so quick to take offence, you know?" she added with a small sigh.  
"Same here, if you were more respectful." he retorted, unwilling to let her have the last word.  
Asajj Ventress shook her bald, tattooed head. "I'm not being disrespectful, I'm teasing you. It happens between people, sometimes, especially between colleagues." she argued.  
Grievous didn't quite know how to reply to that. Pointing out that they were not strictly colleagues sounded lame and childish even in his head, and would miss the poiny quite spectacularly.  
Was she saying that even as she called him clanker and cracked jokes about droids, she was implicitly recognising that he was a person, an equal?  
He looked at her intently for long moments and she didn't break eye contact. Her look was alert and considering, cautious but almost accepting...

"Sirs..." a young, accented voice interrupted them. Both turned swiftly towards one of the Gunners, who had crawled to them with a bunch of purplish-black oblong things. "We've found some fruit, if you want a break." he added and pushed the objects towards them. He even cracked a confident smile.  
Grievous gave him an incredulous look.  
When did he get that fruit, and, more importantly, what on the Galaxy was happening that a Neimoidian was being generous?  
"Where did you find them, soldier?" he asked, trying not to sound menacing.  
The Gunner shrugged. "Crawled a bit in that plantation over there. There is plenty more. - he replied, jerking his helmeted head towards the field to their left - Have a bite, Commander, it's good eating. It's safe, I promise. Leth looked up Naqdaan food on the Net before we came here." he entreated, pushing the fruit again towards the witch.  
Asajj Ventress nodded politely and accepted two of the four-inch long fruits.  
"What is your name, soldier?" she asked, as she tried to find a way into the fruits.  
"I'm private Garu Cato, sir." the Gunner replied. She smiled sweetly at him and Grievous could perceive two bright spots of heat appear on the lad's greenish face.  
Asajj found a way into the fruits and the purple skin peeled off in strips, revealing some sort of translucent reddish jelly.  
The food Neimoidians preferred was almost proverbially disgusting, but this smelled very nice, so nice that Grievous regretted being unable to comsume food. He would have liked to try that.  
The witch scooped up a pinch of jelly and brought it to her mouth. Her eyes widened in pleasure and she quickly got another scoop.  
"It is really good!" she commented.  
Private Cato nodded enthusiastically. "Top-class, galactic export quality, madam! You wouldn't want to know how much this costs on the Core Worlds... - he extolled, all proud of himself - We might die in the next half an hour, but at least we'd have eaten like Viceroys first!"  
Grievous couldn't help but snigger a bit. "If you and your comrades can sneak so well even when food is not involved, I'll make sure you all have double rations like your sniper friend." he proposed.  
The Gunner's eyes widened in awe. "Really, sir? I mean... Sneaking is what we do best, you'll see." he declared, puffing up his thin chest.  
"We shall see, indeed. - Grievous acquiesced - Go back to your comrades and tell them we're moving. We're going through this brush to get the buggers from the flank. Tell the B1s and the Guards to stay here and cover our retreat, instead." he instructed. They would be too noisy and slow for what he had in mind.  
"Yessir! Right away!" Private Cato exclaimed, then turned tail and returned to his position. Leftover fruit was either stuffed in various pockets or quickly gulped down and the Gunners were ready to roll.  
"I would ask what is wrong with these Neimoidians, but I have the feeling there is something wrong with all the others except these ones." the witch commented, licking away the rest of the fruit from her hands.  
Grievous nodded. "My thoughts, exactly." he confirmed.  
"I suppose we can investigate further after we get out of this mess..." Asajj proposed.  
Grievous nodded. "Let's have another dance with the buggers first."  
"Yes, let's." she agreed eagerly, and for some reason it sent a pang of longing through him.  
Ignoring it, Grievous crept out of the trench and among the bushes, signalling to his men to follow him.

True to Private Cato's word, the Gunners moved quickly and silently, crawling and creeping over, under and between the vegetation like consummated poachers and foragers, which they probably had been before finding their way into the regiment.  
They arrived at the other end of the brush without problems, swiftly and silently.  
They were now less than fifteen yards away from the rear of the Naqdaan formation.  
Grievous made them pause, then signalled fire at will. The Gunners started raining blaster bolts nearly point-blank into the blasted buggers.  
Grievous and the witch readily contributed to the chaos, until a loud explosion was heard.  
They both turned towards the sound, ready to pounce. One of the Gunners had appropriated a Naqdaan RPG and was happily firing it against the buggers, who were in disarray, harried from the front and the side.  
"This is..." Asajj said, astonished.  
"Yes, it is..." Grievous agreed.  
It was mental and brilliant at the same time, in a way that was achingly familiar. If the Gunners survived the mission, he was definitely pinching them from Tok Ashel and keeping them under his command.  
"Let's move, shall we?" Asajj proposed, readying her sabers.  
"By all means... - he replied, taking two of his sabers out of his cloak - Gunners, charge!" he shouted, leaping out of the bushes. The witch ran out alongside him and they contacted the disarrayed Naqdaan lines together.

She danced the dance of death like it was the sweetest thing in her life, and he had to admit that it was a thing of beauty to behold.  
It stirred something in him, something he had almost forgotten. It felt right to have a companion fighting beside him, and a bunch of crazy, hungry, overenthusiastic soldiers at his back.  
This was how it was supposed to be, he told himself.  
He was enjoying this mission much more than he had though possible.

"Incoming!" the witch shouted. Grievous concentrated and distinguished a buzzing sound coming closer.  
A shadow was moving on the ground.  
He let it come closer, dispatching his current targets as if he hadn't realised the new threat.  
The male Naqdaan dove in for the kill, wings buzzing. Grievous side-stepped from its trajectory and swiped with his saber, cutting the bugger in half. The top half writhed on the sand, wings fluttering and antennae twitching.  
Grievous deliberately stepped on the poor bastard's head, crushing it and ending its suffering.  
He turned towards the witch and, as if by prearranged agreement, they moved closer to each other and towards the center of the enemy formation, wading in this last diaphragm of buggers that divided them from the troops from the port.  
Grievous smashed into the line, sowing chaos and creating a space, and the witch flowed in, dancing her deathly dance and despatching anyone trying to get him from the back or sides.  
The Gunners picked off more enemies from a distance, giving cover.  
It worked like a wonder, like they had never done anything else in the world.  
He basked in the sheer joy of battle, letting himself be absorbed by the flow.  
He felt so finely attuned with his surroundings that he could feel the presence of the witch and of his soldiers without having to see where they were, that he knew what she was going to do, how she was going to move, almost before she did, and he knew that it was the same for her, that she was feeling like that too.  
Somewhere during the fight, they had stopped fighting alone, and now they were dancing to the same tune, fighting in harmony.  
It was glorious.

It was perfect, until Grievous felt a small vibration under his feet, accompanied by a shrill noise. It broke the magic and sent him to high alert. The noise and the vibration repeated themselves again and again, closer and closer to each other.  
Grievous disengaged from his current foes. "Landmines! The beach is rigged!" he bellowed.  
The witch turned even paler than usual and backed away as well shouting "Gunners! Retreat!"  
The lads didn't wait to be told twice and started running as much as their long, thin legs would allow. The Gunners had barely managed to reach the edge of the brush and relative safety when the first mine went off at their backs. Grievous and Asajj, who had been sucked in much farther in the fight, were still running side by side. In the split-second before the concussive blast washed on them, Grievous split his left arm, grabbed her by her top and tossed her as far as he could, away from the chain of explosions, then the blast hit him, powerful enough to send him flying like a rag doll.  
Briefly enveloped by a nimbus of fire and deafening sound, he was thrown sideways, impacting hard against someting.  
He felt like his chest had caved in, he couldn't breath, and the air was so hot that it almost hurt to breath anyway, and for a moment he blacked out.  
_It should hurt_ , was the first thing he though as he came to, lying on the sand in a heap, gasping for breath.  
The air smelled of overheated metal, sea salt and charred meat and his hearing was taken over by a deafening roar.  
For a moment he couldn't open his eyes, couldn't see, and his mind was assaulted by a torrent of images and sensations.

 _Pain._  
_The world was reduced to pain, a pain so horrible that he couldn't stop screaming in spite of his ruined face and burned throat._  
_There was something terribly wrong with him. He couldn't feel anything but pain below his waist, couldn't move, couldn't breathe.  
He was dying._  
_He should be dying._  
_He wanted to die, if only to end that pain._  
_Please, please, gods, let me die_!  
_He'd never walk away from that beach. Let the sea wash him away to rejoin her forever. Please...  
And for a moment there was darkness, there was peace and consolation.  
And then something dragged him back to that beach, to his grotesquely mutilated body._  
_What more did the gods want from him?!_

A female voice was screaming in pain and terror.  
Yes, there was still something he had to do. Grievous struggled to move, shaking and trembling all over.

_The beach was strewn with Huk corpses, but they kept coming, kept attacking, and he could not break through, could not rush to her side.  
She screamed and fought, but claws sank in her flesh, spraying the sand with the rich red of her lifeblood.  
She screamed and screamed as they dragged her into the water, still stabbing and tearing and clawing, until her screams died in the frothy water.  
He couldn't save her._

"No! I can save her yet! She is still alive!" he told himself, forcing the images away from his head and trying to get his breathing under control.  
He couldn't be weak now, he could not panic.  
Ignoring the pain in his chest, he struggled to his hands and knees.  
He was still alive. He could still move. He could still fight.

Blinking sand and blood out of his eyes, he looked up to the beach. It was a chaos of smoldering corpses and wreckage.  
He saw her for a moment, a flash of white and red among the bugs.  
They were heaping on her, dragging her towards the sea and she fought, she thrashed and screamed...  
The phantom images in his mind superimposed on the scene, hinting at a foregone conclusion.

"No! It it not going to end like that! Not this time!" he told himself, rising to his feet.  
His arms split as if by their own free will and he found himself holding a saber in each hand.  
The world became quiet and sharply focused.  
He could see... everything.  
The quiet was shattered by a savage battlecry.  
He was already charging down the beach before he realised that it had come from him, and then the next moment he was upon the bugs, slicing and stabbing and pounding his way through to her, savage as only a desperate, wounded beast can be.  
His breath came in short, painful gasps, but he ignored the pain, ignored the dizziness, and kept going, until he was beside her, semi-submerged by the salty water.  
Blood spiraled copiously in the water and she was barely conscious, barely able to keep her head above the water.  
Snow-white skin and terrified, dawn-silver eyes.  
She did not look like the red-skinned, dark-haired warrior from his vision, but he realised that it did not matter: she was the woman who fought at his side now, the one who danced with him the dance of death, and she was still alive.  
Nothing else really mattered.  
Grievous de-activated two of his sabers and picked her up from the water, folding her semi-conscious form over his shoulder.  
Between him and salvation, the bugs stood vengeful. He ignited his sabers and yelled a battlecry, determined to open his way through them and carry her to safety no matter what.  
An explosion blasted through the ranks of the bugs, scattering them away, then blaster fire rained in.

Soldiers were approaching, rifles in hand and noseless, grey-green faces grim and determined.  
One of them shouted something at him, but he could barely hear them above the ringing in his ears.  
It didn't matter.  
They were his men, his soldiers, and it was his duty to guide them all to safety.  
He ran towards them trusting that they would give him cover from anything coming in behind him, and shifted his hold on her to a more comfortable position. She had passed out completely.  
Back into the brush, the men guided him towards the other side, where the rest of his command was waiting.  
They didn't have much time before the bugs came buzzing on their trail.  
"We need... to retreat... towards the airstrip..." he wheezed, remembering a flash of what had happened before. His voice sounded distorted to his own ears, but at least his hearing was coming back.  
They had been sitting in that trench yonder, chatting and eating fruit not fifteen minutes past...  
It did not matter now, he told himself, struggling to focus.

The troops started trotting towards one of the hangars and he followed them in a daze.  
The snipers on the roof and the droid at the cannon rushed to help them.  
Grievous set her down on the floor between the buildings and propped himself against a wall to prevent himself from folding to the ground.  
If he stopped now, he was not sure he would be able to get back to action.  
"We... we need... to hold out... Pickup is... coming soon..." he panted.  
The Gunners nodded grimly, stationing themselves to shoot at any incoming target with more than two legs..  
"Does anyone know... first-aid?" he asked then, glancing at the witch's still form. Blood was staining the permacrete.  
"I do, sir!" a shortish Gunner replied.  
Grievous nodded. "Give me... your gun... and stabilise her." he ordered.  
The Gunner bowed stiffly and handed over his rifle, then knelt next to the witch and started rummaging in one of the bags attached to his waist.  
Grievous forced himself to take his eyes away from the pair and look out for targets. His vision tunneled and nearly blacked out from moment to moment, but he tried as hard as he could to keep going.

A group of two-legged figures came running towards their position.  
Grievous managed to distinguish some B1 droids and at least a Neimoidian.  
"Hold your fire!" he yelled, even as a stray bolt sailed in their direction, fired from an overly nervous Gunner.  
The stragglers looked battered and smoke-stained and gratefully sank to the ground once behind cover.  
"They are hot on our trail." said the Neimoidian, a roughly-dressed, lowly technician with goggles and a flat cap.  
"How many of you... are still... out there?" Grievous asked.  
The Neimoidian shook his head. "Just us, as far as I know."  
"Where is... Commander Den?" Grievous insisted.  
"Fuck I know, with all due respect, sir! - the technician exclaimed - Blown halfway to the atmosphere, probably." he added, shrugging fatalistically.  
"Grab a gun... and get ready to shoot. We have... ten minutes... before pickup." Grievous instructed.  
The Neimoidian grumbled but did as told, grimly picking up a discarded blaster and cowering behind a low section of wall.  
Grievous closed his eyes for a moment, trying to figure out what to do next. The ships still in the airstrip were little more than wrecks, useless for flight, and the hangars were empty.  
Their only hope of escape at the moment, was whatever ship the flagship would send. Only a few minutes more...  
A pained sound distracted him from his considerations. He opened his eyes and turned towards the source.  
The Gunner on first-aid detail nearly startled. "She is regaining consciousness, sir!" he announced.  
"What are... her conditions?" Grievous inquired.  
"The wound in her leg's bone-deep and she has lost a lot of blood. - the Gunner explained - I stopped the blood flow, but she is not combat fit at the moment."  
Grievous nodded grimly. She would need to be carried.

"Incoming!" Private Cato shouted. Several males carrying what looked like bombs were flying towards them.  
"Cannon! Snipers! Drop them!" Grievous shouted.  
The pain in his chest intensified and he clutched uselessly at his side. He could feel a sort of depression in his lower chest, like an indentation. There was something wrong with him that went beyond a simple panic attack, but it was not the moment to figure out what.  
Blaster bolts started zooming around again, as the best shooters attempted to stave off the threat.  
Between Grievous, the cannon and the Neimoidian snipers, most of the males were accounted for, however some escaped thanks to their sheer numbers.  
Fire started raining on the airstrip.  
Most of the shells fell on the permacrete or on unoccupied buildings with resounding booms but little harm, one however looked like it was flying straight for the space between buildings where all the troops were huddled.  
Grievous looked up impotently and braced for the second explosion of the day, but suddenly the shell was blown off-course, as if by a sudden, localised, gust of gale-force wind.

He turned back to where the witch was lying, except that she was not.  
A tight grimace distorted her pale face as she stood propped against the first-aider's shoulder, and her power roiled around her like the shimmer of heat over the sand in summer.  
"We need to find better cover! I can't deflect them all!" she said between gritted teeth.  
Grievous nodded and started thinking furiously.  
They needed a solid building with enough nests for snipers and enough protection, but still enough space around for a ship to land, and it needed to be close. The maps from the reconnaissance file popped back into his tired mind.  
"The juice factory!" both him and the witch exclaimed at the same time.  
It was perfect, with the back to the cliff and the front to the road connecting it to the capital, and it was less than half a mile away.  
"What?!" the tech protested, but Grievous ignored him, trying to make up a viable plan as fast as he could, before the Naqdaans could send in another squadron of bombers.  
"Soldiers! The building to North-East! As fast as you can! Grab as much gear... as you can carry... and run!" he started ordering with the short, painful bursts of breath he could manage, slinging a rifle around his shoulders himself.

They needed cover.  
He needed to sacrifice someone to keep the airstrip a bit longer as the rest of them made their escape. He looked around just for a moment.  
The choice was easy. "MagnaGuards! Man the cannon! Hold out... as long as you can! No retreat! No surrender!" he ordered.  
They were supposed to be his bodyguards, and they were quite effective, usually, but in fact they were just pieces of metal.  
They would never have the gall to forage for fruit during a mission, or have a stroke of genius, or connect with someone instinctively, and they were also crap marksdroids, even worse than the B1s.  
Leaving them behind felt almost good, in a way.  
"B1s, with us!" he added, almost as an afterthought.

The Gunners had already started stripping anything useful from the airstrip and the first ones were already running to the factory.  
The first-aider was hobbling away with the witch, but Grievous stopped him.  
"Leave her to me... soldier." he ordered.  
The Gunner frowned, perplexed, and hesitated, looking up at the witch.  
"I can carry her... and run... You can't." Grievous added, impatiently.  
The witch nodded grimly. "He's right, Nyto. I'll be fine." she assented and the Gunner nodded.  
"As you wish, Commander. " he acquiesced.  
The witch let herself be lifted up in the cyborg's lower arms without protest, which was in itself a good indicator of how weak and tired she felt.  
Her skin was cool and clammy from pain and exhaustion, but it still felt warmer than the perennial chill Grievous was forced to endure. Her warmth was soothing, in a way that he couldn't even begin to describe.  
"Let's go, then!" he ordered again, and set out at a jog, trying to jostle her as little as possible, but, as careful as he could be, he could still hear her whimper quietly under her breath.

She had nearly passed out again, and he was feeling very near collapse when they reached the new building.  
Collapsing, however, was a luxury he couldn't afford yet.  
The front room on the ground floor had to be protected.  
"RPG! - he called out, recognising the crazy soldier from before, unloading some crates from a couple of B1s - Choose three people... and guard this floor. Keep these two with you."  
"Yessir!" the Gunner exclaimed with a large smile.  
"How many shells... left?" Grievous asked.  
"Two cratesful and five, sir! - the lad replied proudly - I found some in the hangar."  
"Make them count." Grievous instructed.  
"Yessir!" the Gunner exclaimed, and turned back to his work, laying down the shells in an orderly fashion on the floor.  
Grievous nodded and crawled up the stairs.  
He stopped at landing of the first floor, where Private Cato seemed to be coordinating some of his comrades into clearing up the front room of anything useless to the building's defence.  
Definitely officer material, he thought distantly.  
The first-aider appeared at his side, ushering him towards a back-room.  
Grievous followed him in a sort of storeroom.  
The Gunner hastily threw together a few bits of tarpaulin into a makeshift pallet and motioned at him to set the witch down.  
Grievous knelt on the floor and laid her down as instructed.  
For a moment he allowed himself to look at her. She looked fragile, lying there half-conscious and bloodstained, but her strength was still there, hidden behind the soft surface. She was a strange woman, but he was starting to think that he liked her strangeness much more than he should, in spite of how infuriating and rebellious she was. Possibly even more because of that.  
"Hey... Thanks for the ride." she slurred, silver eyes slitting open.  
She reached out and lay a hand on his forearm.  
Grievous didn't know whether he wanted to yank his arm away from her touch, or allow himself to savour it.  
No living, organic being had wanted to touch him except in a fight since the accident, and yet she made it seem so casual, so natural...  
"Don't... don't mention it." Grievous managed to wheeze.  
He felt more tired than ever, but hoisted himself to his feet once more.  
"Look after... Commander Ventress. I'll be... next door... with the lads." he told the first-aider.  
The lad nodded decisively and saluted smartly.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Grievous staggered to the room Private Cato and the others had been clearing out.  
Boxes and crates had been brought in as cover, desks overturned and ammunition handed out.  
Cato himself was posted at one of the windows while the others were manned by other Gunners or B1s.  
It looked like the lad knew his business.  
"What's... the situation?" Grievous asked.  
"Van's dug in downstairs, sir. The tech is with him. They might have found more boom. - he reported, saluting almost automatically - I've taken the liberty to send Auray and the other snipers one floor up. Everyone else is here."  
"Losses?" Grievous asked, sinking to his knees behind the cover.  
Private Cato grimaced. "Of the forces we had at the airstrip, we lost Mynak, Tuuk, Ruul and two B1s."  
Grievous nodded.  
"We were lucky. It could have been much worse if you had not alerted us about the landmines. We beat it just in time. Thanks, sir, from all the squad. Also for not leaving us behind." the Gunner added earnestly.  
"It's my duty... as your CO... to look after you." Grievous replied almost automatically.  
Ever since taking command of droid-only troops however, he had neglected that duty.  
What was the point, if droids could be re-built in batches to the exact same specifications? He used them ruthlessly, like the objects they were, but he had never been so callous with his compatriots, back home during the Huk war.  
Private Cato shrugged. "Many wouldn't have cared. Flesh is cheap on Neimoidia. Droids are expensive." he said dispassionately.  
That comment stopped Grievous in his tracks, but debates on ethics were best left aside for a moment.

"Where is... the comm officer?" he asked instead.  
Private Cato jerked his head to one side. "Dyoc! Get your arse here!" he yelled.  
The comm officer crawled from his cover to theirs. "Private Dyoc Koru reporting for duty, sir!" the comm officer called out, giving a dirty but amused look at his comrade.  
"Call the officer... on the frigate... We need to send him our new position." Grievous ordered.  
Dyoc nodded and started coding the frequency, much faster than the last time.  
"Can't find them, sir." he announced finally, flustered and perplexed.  
"What?!" Grievous and Private Cato both exclaimed.  
"There is no one listening on that frequency." Dyoc clarified, shaking his head.  
"Try again... Frequency 77.52." Grievous ordered.  
Dyoc nodded and carefully punched in all the codes required. From the other side there was only static.  
"They must have seen what happened on the beach and beaten it." Private Cato commented grimly after a moment of silence.  
"Without checking... for survivors?!" Grievous protested, angry and incredulous.  
Private Cato shrugged. "As I said, on Neimoidia flesh is cheap, but only as long as it is someone else's. - he commented with a fatalistic shrug - And to be perfectly honest, I don't think any of the Feds actually like you and Commander Ventress, sir."  
For a moment, Grievous felt a wave if despair engulf him and drag him down.  
He was damaged and stranded on a hostile planet with few troops, limited gear and a seriously wounded officer.  
Luckily anger quickly came to his rescue.  
He couldn't just roll over and die. He had not worked so hard to save the witch and the lads just to stop now, and he also had to survive to rip the head off the shoulders of the bastard who had abandoned them.

"Private Koru... do yo know... how to do a frequency sweep... on that?" Grievous asked, pointing towards the comm apparatus.  
"In theory yes, sir. I've never actually done it before, though." the Gunner admitted ruefully.  
"This will be your... first time, then... Search all the frequencies... Find me a CIS ship in the area... Even just a cargo... There must be... at least one..." Grievous ordered.  
"Yessir! Right away!" Private Koru replied, settling down to work furiously on the dials and switches of the apparatus.  
"Don't worry, lad... I'll get you... and your mates... home." Grievous told Private Cato.  
The Gunner grimaced and then laughed. "No, please, sir... Anywhere but home." he mock-pleaded.  
Grievous frowned, uncomprehending.  
"Any CIS base would be fine, sir." Private Cato added, more seriously.  
Before he could ask for explanations, Private Koru exploded in a victorious exclamation. "Got one!" he yelled.  
"Put them through!" Grievous ordered.  
The comm officer nodded sharply and threw the switch. The translucent rendition of a stern-faced Neimoidian appeared over the receiver.  
Grievous felt a pang of relief at the sight. This was a person who deserved his post and who would not panic when in a difficult situation. T  
hat and he had a Lucrehulk-class battleship. Plenty of firepower to get them out of that shithole.  
"Commander Lushros Dofine..." he greeted.  
"General Grievous! To what do I owe the honour?" the aristocratic starship captain asked, bowing stiffly.  
"I need... your help, Commander. - Grievous replied - I'm stranded with some troops... on Naqdaa... We lost contact with... with the fleet."  
"On Naqdaa? - Dofine repeated, quirking an eyebrow and smoothing his long fingers on his chin - Wasn't it Tok Ashel's target?"  
"It was. - Grievous confirmed - He's MIA... probably dead. It was bad... very bad, Commander. We need out... as soon as possible." he declared.  
Dofine nodded gravely and checked his terminal. "I'm quite a few parsecs from your position at the moment, but I'll have a clear jump in a couple of hours. All in all, the ETA should be in 4 hours. Can you hold out for so long?" he asked.  
"We'll have to." Grievous said, nodding grimly.  
"Four hours? Piece of cake, innit, boys?" Private Cato yelled and was answered by a chorus of yells and catcalls.  
Dofine frowned. "Who is with you, sir?"  
"Some lads... Neimoidian Gunnery Batallion." Grievous replied, shrugging his shoulders and promptly regretting it.  
The impulse to cough started tickling his lungs, but something told him that it wouldn't be wise to follow it.  
"Fifteenth squadron, the Unclaimed!" Private Garu chimed in proudly.  
Dofine grimaced, unimpressed.  
"Commander Ventress... she is here as well... she needs... medical attention." Grievous added, pausing every few words more to repress the impulse to cough than to breathe properly.  
"I'll tell my medical detail to be ready. - Dofine assented - Rendez-vous in four hours at your coordinates, then."  
"Agreed. See you... in four hours." Grievous wheezed.  
Dofine bowed again and cut the communication.

Grievous felt so relieved about having secured a pick-up that it seemed as if all energy had drained from him.  
He was not sure if he would be able to stand up at the moment.  
He felt oddly weak and lethargic, bone-weary indeed, as if he was running low on battery, but a quick, nearly subconscious, diagnostic check told him that the battery was working fine. Still, he felt like the only thing he wanted at the moment was to sleep, just to shut down for a while.  
"Are you alright, sir?" Private Cato asked.  
Grievous was startled to find the Neimoidian hovering at the edge of his personal space. The lad hadn't been so close a moment ago. He must have closed his eyes for a moment without even realising.  
The truthful answer was that he was not, but he couldn't admit it to his soldier. The morale of the lads would plummett if they were left with both their commanding officers out of commission.  
"I... I'll manage." he replied weakly.  
Private Cato gave him a considering look, seeing through his rather transparent lie. The lad was too bright for his own good.  
"With all due respect, sir, you look like shit. - he whispered, softly but firmly - It won't do anyone any good if you collapse."  
Grievous didn't reply, concentrating on breathing instead.  
He couldn't cough until he figured out exactly what was pressing against his chest.  
The engineers had given him quite a few briefings about his condition and what could go wrong with him, so he knew that if the pressurised cocoon enveloping his organic bits tore open and lost pressure, he would die a quick but very unpleasant death unless someone patched him up immediately.  
"Why don't you go take a breather next door, sir? - Private Cato proposed - We can handle it for a while, I'm sure."  
Grievous thought about it for a moment.  
What would make him look weaker, accepting the lad's offer and leaving his men alone to face the enemy or passing out in front of them?  
"You will call me... if anything happens." he ordered finally, trying to sound stern instead of just worn out. If he went to ground for a moment now, he could try to figure out how to fix himself.  
"Of course, sir!" Private Cato acquiesced, nodding vigorously.  
"Do you want me to send Nyto to have a look at you?" he added quietly as an afterthought.  
Grievous shook his head. He didn't really want anyone poking around and he had the feeling he needed the help of a mechanic rather than of a doctor.  
Now that he thought of it, the integrity circuits were firing up in his chest. It was definitely mechanical damage, then.  
"I'll be fine." he rasped, then promptly contradicted his words, cursing under his breath as a sharp pain lanced through his chest.  
"If you say so, sir..." Private Cato commented, unconvinced.  
"I do indeed. - Grievous confirmed, starting to become irritated - Stop fussing... about me... and look out for... for those buggers. I'll be back... shortly." he barked.  
The lad saluted sharply, looking chastised.

Grievous turned and staggered out of the front room and into the improvised infirmary. He didn't go very far into it before he had to shore himself up against the wall as his knees folded under him.  
He seconded the movement, sitting down with his back against the wall and his arms wrapped protectively around his chest.  
If he inclined himself just right the pressure eased a bit, allowing him to breathe more easily. Life was full of little satisfactions like that, but he still felt moments from passing out.  
"General... Are you alright?" a soft, female voice asked.  
Grievous hadn't realised he had closed his eyes until they shot open at the sound.  
Commander Ventress looked much better than she had when he left not long before. She was sitting up, fully conscious and alert, and, from the looks of it had been tending to her minor cuts and grazes.

Now her dawn-silver eyes were trained on to him with a certain apprehension. For a moment he was assaulted by the absurd wish that she would worry about him, that she would care enough to be really concerned for his safety.  
A spasm of longing ran through him, but he repressed it. This was only an after effect of the panic attack and the visions he had had on the beach.  
The truth was that he was nothing to her.

Despite the connection he had felt with her during the battle, she didn't care and wouldn't have any reason to care. She had made that abundantly clear during their earlier collaborations.  
He was alone, as always.  
Grievous looked wearily at the witch and wished it wasn't so.


	2. The Fine Line Between Hate and Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains a sort-of-lime and some strong language. Do not read if you object to the main pairing/interspecies romance/romance involving cyborgs.
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

For the first time in a long while, Asajj Ventress wished her master had not died so prematurely.  
However, this was not just one of her recurrent bouts of melancholy.  
At the present, she mostly wished he had survived enough to teach her a bit more of Force-healing.  
Enveloped in the Force, she was concentrating hard, focusing inwardly to send her power into her mangled leg.  
Nyto, the medic attached to the Gunners, had done a really good job of patching her up, but a bit of help was still necessary to coax the wound into closing and to ease the pain.

After the explosion, one of the buggers had caught her unawares, while she was still trying to figure out if she had all her body parts still in place, and, closing its pincers around her calf, had started dragging her towards the water. Then the rest of its swarm had closed in onto her, pushing and hitting and trying to tear her into little pieces...  
She shivered at the memory.  
This probably the closest brush she had had with death, even closer than when her master had been killed. She had really thought that would be it, that she would either drown or be ripped apart.  
And then Grievous had charged in, furious and terrible like an avenging spirit.  
She owed her life to him...  
She might not like it, but it was the truth.

Their first meeting had been an absolute disaster for her.  
She had never felt so humiliated as when that... thing... made from the leftovers of a spaceship crash smashed through her carefully executed technique, regardless of her hard-won training and her attunement with the Force.  
That half-droid had beaten her bloody, nearly killed her, and had stolen her lightsabers, both the one she had built for herself when she was fourteen and the one she had inherited from her fallen master.  
It was the only thing she had left of him and he had taken it away as a trophy.  
Devastated, she had complained about it with Count Dooku, but to no avail.  
Probably the worst of it had been Dooku's disdain and sarcasm towards her after the accident.  
It had chafed, no, it had hurt to be rejected like that by her new master.

It had been easy to hate Grievous back then.  
That unnatural hybrid was about as Forceful as the average doorknob and yet his ability with a lightsaber was on par with hers and he knew it.  
She saw him strutting around with that ridiculous cape and those ridiculous droid bodyguards and seethed in rage. After the Blue Bitch from Outer Space had kicked it, she had been Dooku's favourite student, she had been the best, and now the old man favoured that jumble of guts and relays.  
And the bloody thing even had a higher Jedi kill count than her! Oh, the nerve of it!  
She had tried her damned best to get back into Dooku's graces: worked harder, trained harder, gathered any sliver of knowledge she could put her hands on.  
One day she would reduce that thing to little more than scraps and regain her place at her master's side, she had vowed. She would not be beaten by a droid, no matter how good its programming.

It was then that Dooku had started ordering them to work together.  
Both of them had been outraged at the development and Asajj was sure that Dooku had had the time of his life watching them bicker and trade insults, but if it had been a joke, both of them had been the butt of it.  
When their first mission together had gone predictably bad, Dooku had severely reprimanded both of them, humiliating them, finding what hurt them most and throwing it at their faces like only a Sith Lord could do.  
Asajj had entertained hopes that it would be the end of their enforced partnership.  
She had been wrong.  
Dooku had kept on pairing them up, in a display of sadistic pique.

Despite the fact that they hated each other, both her and Grievous had too much sense of responsability to let the entire campaign go to shit just to spite each other.  
They had learned to work together, to win together. And, by the Force, they had cut a bloody path in the Republican forces together!  
In time, she had come to respect him as a strategist as much as she was wary of him as a swordsperson.  
Even when she still hated him with every fiber of her being, she could not deny that he was prodigiously good at fighting.  
Sometimes she used to sneak to the training grounds and snoop on him as he trained to try and learn how he fought. The idea was for her to gain an edge over him in their next rematch, but Asajj had found that it was also quite aesthetically pleasing to watch him fight.  
Dooku might berate him for lacking for lacking finesse and mock him as a brute, but privately she liked his displays of power and fury and the ingenuity of his approach.

Even with increased exposure and growing respect, her dislike of him had not significantly diminished, though.  
She had come to realise that, unless some programmer had been crazy enough to want to make a droid cranky, and arrogant, and prone to fits of rage, he wasn't just a more advanced model of tactical droid, but a real individual.  
Yes, a real arsehole, who was so full of himself that he might burst, who always tried to meddle in her tasks and who more often than not tried to make ot look like the success of their missions was due exclusively to him.  
She just hated when he treated her like an underling, it made her want to humiliate him, to mock him, and hurt him.  
And it was so damned easy to wind him up. She almost couldn't help it...  
Their enforced partnership was always on the brink of aggression and sometimes just jumped straight off the cliff into violence.  
She had lost count of how many times they had come to blows, only to be interrupted by Dooku, an incoming holocall, or some random enemy. After her initial defeat, she was getting increasingly able to hold her own against him, and it pleased her more than she would admit.

It would be safe to say that, at the beginning of this last, unplannned mission, Asajj actively disliked her sometimes-partner, even if she didn't outright hate him anymore.  
Now she was not so sure about her judgement.  
Asajj was quite certain that she had seen a side of him that was quite different from his usual forbidding and arrogant demeanour.  
He had been almost friendly with the troops, had even cracked jokes, and, by doing so, had managed to make them do things that they would have never dared to do on their own.  
More strangely, after their talk in the ditch, but even before, on and off, he had been... nice with her, in an awkward sort of way.  
He was just terrible at interpersonal relationships, she supposed, but at least this time he had given her credit where credit was due.  
Asajj had been quite sure that Grievous reciprocated her feelings of personal dislike and most of their fights had actually been initiated by him, albeit after she had goaded him into a fit of fury.  
And yet had saved her life, even carried her in his arms despite being wounded and clearly out of sorts, possibly even shell-shocked.  
Why hadn't he beaten it like he did most times when he thought the situation wasn't worth salvaging?  
Why had he risked so much for her?  
Why should he care about her?  
It made no sense, but his actions said that he did even if his words didn't.  
Could it be that he had a crush on her?  
She had noticed how he sometimes stared at her, and she knew that she often had that effect on men, but could it be that he considered her more than just a fine piece of ass, at least when he wasn't totally furious with her?  
That would throw a different light on many incidents from their past collaborations, Asajj mused.  
Maybe his attempts to interfere with her tasks and to provide help when none was required were his clumsy way of being gallant, she realised.  
And then there was what had happened on the beach, just before the explosion.  
That feeling of connection, of belonging... It had felt good to have someone to watch her back, to work with someone who knew what he was doing.  
And they had fought so well together, flowing around each other seamlessly, almost instinctively. It had felt odd, but comforting.

Sighing, she put aside the happy thoughts of mayhem and destruction and the more confusing ones about his behaviour, and forced herself to do something useful.  
Nyto had left her some packets of bacta ointment and gauzes when he had left to rejoin his comrades.  
She cracked one open and dabbed some green-blue goo on a shallow graze on her arm, wincing at the burn.  
She had been trying to summarily patch herself up for a while, when the door opened.  
Grievous staggered in, leaning heavily on the wall, then folded to the ground, not quite in a heap, but almost.  
He just sat there with his eyes closed, breathing shallow, harsh breaths.  
"General... are you alright?" she asked softly.  
His eyes shot open and he blinked slowly, looking rather dazed, but didn't say anything. He looked rather like he was going to pass out at any moment.  
A surge of alarm coursed through her.  
He must have been seriously wounded during the explosion, because usually even being repeatedly Force-slammed into walls or having some limb cut off by a lightsaber didn't faze him.  
Worried, Asajj set aside the bacta and bandages she had been using and crawled towards him.  
"What is wrong with you?" Asajj asked, her voice made hoarse by the discomfort.  
Nyto's drugs had taken the edge off the pain, but she knew it was still there, lurking under the surface. Moving had not been the wisest choice, but what is a woman supposed to do when an ally is looking like death warmed over?  
The cyborg raised towards her a weary golden stare. "I... I have picked up... some mechanical damage... It is... inconveniencing me." he rasped.

He was in pain.  
It was evident not just from his voice, but also from the weary look in his eyes and the way he curled up as if to protect himself.  
She had never seen him in pain before.  
Actually, now that she thought of it, she had not thought that he could feel pain at all. You learn something new every day...  
"Let me have a look, you crazy lump of metal." she chided, gesturing for him uncurl.  
Grievous hesitated, looked down at the damage and then back at her and nodded minutely, taking his hands off the damaged parts.  
Asajj took a moment to fully assess the situation: most of his white duranium plate was either smeared with sand-encrusted, blue-ish ichor, or scratched by shrapnel, and his faceplate was crusted with a reddish stain under one eye, but the worst of the damage was concentrated on the left side of his chest: a couple of the metallic ribs had bent inwards and were pressing against some sort of fluid-filled sack lodged in his chest cavity.  
Asajj took a closer look, letting the Force sharpen her senses. The low light was just a minor nuisance and all sounds reached her loud and clear.

Things were moving sluggishly inside the greenish translucent fluid and she could hear his laboured breaths and a soft, rythmic, thumping sound, rising and falling in time with the movement.  
She frowned for a moment in puzzlement, then a realisation dawned on her, filling her with horror: that movement was his heart beating and his lungs breathing.  
Inside that synthskin sack was all that was left of his organic body apart from what peeked out from under his mask.  
Now that she knew what to look for, she could make out a bundle of blood vessels connecting the heart with the lungs and the rest of the organs. Long, reinforced tubes were stuck both in the lungs and the heart, presumably connecting them with a pump and with his head respectively.  
It looked sophisticated but also terribly barbaric and intrusive.  
She had had to be attached to life support once, when Grievous beat her up within an inch of her life on their first encounter, and she didn't like even a bit the feeling of having a tube stuck down her throat.  
This had to be worse. Incommensurably, maddeningly worse. Uncomfortable and painful and oh so depersonalising.  
It was no wonder that he had a hair-trigger temper, living in these conditions all the time, without any respite.  
She would have rather died than living like he had to, but knowing them as she did, she doubted Dooku and the rest of the Separatist leaders had actually left Grievous the luxury of choice.  
A wave of what could only be pity washed over her, but she quickly suppressed it.  
She highly doubted he would want her pity, it was already miraculous that he had accepted her help.  
The last thing she wanted was to set him off in such cramped quarters when she was in such weakened state: he'd mash her to a pulp without too much effort.  
Then again, she doubted he could muster the energy to attack her at all, for once.  
He was taking too-shallow, too-fast breaths and whatever snippets of first-aid training she could recall told her that this way he couldn't get rid of all the carbon dioxide in his blood. It was making him lethargic and could even kill him, if he didn't get himself fixed in due time.

"It's only inconveniencing you, eh?" she asked, looking up at him with a quirked eyebrow.  
Grievous rolled his eyes quite expressively and sighed. "It hurts... and I can't... breathe properly..." he admitted softly.  
"Well, you've got two bent pieces of metal pressing on your organs... Have you tried to straighten them?" she asked.  
He shook his head "The position... is awkward... I can't see... what I am doing. " he clarified.  
Asajj nodded. "One of the two is twisted. There is a sharp, pointy bit sticking out." she revealed calmly.  
His eyes went quite wide under the mask and he started to breathe even more shallowly. He was scared and she could imagine why.  
"Yes, exactly. - she confirmed, nodding - You were lucky you didn't tear yourself open already, running around and carrying me."  
"I hadn't realised... how bad it was until... later. I though it was... just a panic attack." he admitted, shaking his head slowly.  
"And therefore you didn't stop." she continued, raising her eyebrows in disbelief, but also admiration.  
"I couldn't... - he replied - There was... no time... Couldn't be weak... Had to get... everyone... to safety."  
Asajj shook her head. So he had actually had a PTSD episode, but he somehow managed to ignore it through sheer stubbornness.  
That was some committment to a task...  
"I could try straightening them myself, but..." she started.  
"But you won't... right? Leave me alone, then... Bitch." he spat out bitterly and wearily, eyes drifting closed.

Asajj cast him a surprised look. That stung!  
Why did he have to be such a prick just now, after being all nice and gallant and saving her?!  
And just as she was trying to help him!  
"Well, maybe I was going to, but why should I now? - she declared, more offended than she thought she would be - I can leave you like this if you prefer. I wonder how long you can last without coughing..." she purred.  
He shot her a penetrating glance, but his animosity died down as quickly as it had flared up.  
"You weren't... going to help me... anyway... Why... why should you care... if I live... or die?" he replied with certainty, turning his face away from her.  
"Colleagues, remember? You helped me, I was going to help you. Was being the operative word." she replied, sounding more cool and collected than she felt.  
It would be wrong to deny him her help after what he had done for her. She always paid her debts.  
But she wasn't anyone's bitch and she was not going to accept being treated like one by anyone.  
Especially not by him.

Grievous turned his gaze back towards her and she thought he looked rather surprised.  
He took a breath to speak and she thought he was going to aplogise, but she had forgotten how bloody stubborn he could be.  
"I think... Dooku wouldn' be... impressed... with you... if I sprung a leak... and died... while you just sat there... doing nothing..." he wheezed, also trying to sound calm.  
"True enough, but I think I can survive his displeasure. - she retorted, smiling her sweetest smile - The question is, can you?"  
Golden eyes tightened under the cyborg's bone-white mask but he did not reply.  
"I suppose that if that thing ripped, it would be an especially painful and claustrophobic way to go... - she commented, holding his smoldering gaze with her own - Are you feeling lucky, General?" she asked.  
The concrete floor chipped under an armored fist and Asajj couldn't contain a startled intake of breath. Would she be fast enough to get out of range before he lashed out?  
"What... what do you want me... to do? Apologise?" he growled, tensing as if to spring into action.  
He was mere seconds from snapping and then a flash of pain passed over his eyes and he slumped back down, uselessly clutching at his chest. Asajj repressed a relieved sigh.  
"It would be enough for you to stop calling me a bitch. Witch is fine if you can't do without. I might even like it. - she replied, firmly but gently - Remember that thing about teasing and insulting? I wouldn't mind you teasing me, but I won't let you insult me. Respect needs to go both ways." she added.  
Grievous nodded quietly, looking sheepish.  
It was almost as good as an apology, coming from him.  
"As I was saying, - she resumed, mollified by his reaction - I could try to straighten them out forcefully, but if they moved in the wrong direction... well, then we'd have a problem."  
Grievous sighed. "What... do you suggest... then?" he asked.  
"I think the best option is to remove them. I can hold them in place with the Force and... doesn't one of your sabers shorten?" Asajj asked.  
"And this... is the best option... you can think of?!" he retorted, clearly not impressed. Sarcasm showed clearly even on his synthetic voice.  
"If you can think of anything better, let me know. In the meantime I would suggest that you keep taking shallow breaths..." she teased, crossing her arms gingerly under her breasts.  
Grievous cast her an intense look and grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.  
A lightsaber was shoved in her direction.  
"Do it then... damn you!" he growled.

Asajj accepted the saber with a minute nod and examined it for a moment.  
The hilt was pretty basic and undecorated metal, straight and longer than usual. Whoever Grievous had taken it from must have favoured a two-handed style of fighting. She thumbed the activation button and a green blade boiled forth, also a bit longer than standard.  
She thumbed it again, triggering a second switch and the blade shortened into a shoto knife.  
"I would stay very still, if I were you." she advised quietly.  
He nodded and his breathing noticeably accelerated.  
She didn't say anything to tease him: she'd be totally shitting herself if their positions had been reversed.  
He was showing an enormous amount of trust in her and her abilities by letting her help him like that. He didn't actually have any other option, it was true, but still, it was humbling.

Manouvering the short blade carefully, she started cutting into the first piece of metal just before the bent section.  
The durasteel the Geonosians had used was evidently top quality, because it took quite a long time for it to start melting. She gripped the section into a tendril of Force to prevent it from shifting or tilting.  
Grievous had gone very still, like only a mostly inorganic being could, eyes closed and barely breathing.  
"Am I hurting you?" she asked belatedly, as the blade slowly cut through the thick rib.  
"I can feel it... but it is not... painful." he replied softly. Someyhing in his tone and posture told her that, even then, it was not a pleasant feeling.  
"I am through. - she announced finally, extinguishing and setting down the blade - Can you hold your breath? I'll take it off."  
"Do it." he ordered, tensing even further.  
Asajj nodded reflexively, even if he could not see her, and concentrated hard on the piece of metal, shifting it slowly outwards. He had really stopped breathing and if it was not for the fast beating of his heart, he would truly look like a droid. She kept going until it was clear of his chest cavity, then let it clatter to the ground.  
Both her and Grievous took as deep a breath as they dared.  
"One down, one to go. - she announced - Do you need a break?" she asked.  
Grievous opened his eyes again and shook his head. "The sooner done... the better." he wheezed, but with a determined look in his eyes.  
"A man after my own heart. - she commented, smiling and winking teasingly to keep his morale up - Ready when you are."  
Grievous took another deep-ish breath. "Now." he ordered.

Asajj lighted the blade again and set out to work her way carefully through another couple of inches of durasteel.  
The second rib was the most damaged one, the one that actually threatened the integrity of the synthskin, so she took extra care in cutting through it.  
She could feel the sweat start to bead on her forehead and her heart pump faster as she kept on working. She could not allow herself any sloppiness, not one little mistake.  
"It's going to go." she warned, as the metal parted completely and came to rest only over the immaterial thread of energy created by her will.  
She didn't dare setting down the blade, this time, and slipped in the flow of the Force even deeper, as deep as she dared.  
It seemed to her that time had stopped as the piece of metal moved millimeter by millimeter away from what was left of whatever Grievous had been before.  
It floated obediently, without a jolt, and as soon as it was safely out of the way, she flung it away hard enough that it embedded in the wall to half its length.

Grievous took a deep, hungry breath and promptly started coughing so hard that he nearly bent double.  
It sounded harsh, and painful, and, now that she was still immersed in the Force, she could almost see the tendrils of pain emanating from him, like drops of ink in a glass of water.  
She could imagine he had been holding the impulse to cough for a while, probably since he had realised how bad the situation was, and it hadn't done him any favours.  
It seemed like ages before it calmed down and he managed to just sit there with his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around his chest as if to hold himself together, looking like the picture of weariness.  
It was strange to see him so weak and helpless.  
It didn't seem right, somehow.

Asajj switched off the saber and crawled nearer, until she could feel warm air hit her face as he breathed.  
It smelled like blood.  
Shaking her head, she set her right hand on his chest plate, extending her senses towards him. She could sense damage, but his biology was so jumbled up that she could not tell if it had something to do with the synthskin rupturing or not.  
"What are you doing?" he asked, coughing again. His eyes were wide with worry and he was starting to tense up.  
Why did a simple contact rile him up so much?  
Was he worried because she was using the Force?  
"I need to check that there is no damage inside." she told him and before he could reply negatively, or reply at all, she had already sneaked a hand in the gaping hole where his ribs had been, to gently rest it against the synthskin cocoon.  
It should have felt gross, but it did not.  
It felt warm and alive, and he gasped softly at the contact, arching his neck and closing his eyes again.  
He could feel that, really, truly feel her touch as she gently ran her hand over the warm, lifelike tissue, checking that it was whole and dry.  
Small, helpless noises of what could only be pleasure escaped him, and his heart beat faster and faster against her hand.  
Asajj felt her throat constrict and her eyes burn with tears at this uncharacteristic, but heartfelt, display of need and weakness.  
Now she realised why he was always so tense when she got too close him or initiated any casual contact: probably hardly anyone had touched him in years, ever since the accident. Then again, why would anyone want to get close enough to try and initiate any contact with him? He wasn't exactly the most approachable person even in the best of times.  
Through the Force she could feel that he had almost forgotten how it felt to be touched. And this was different from any other kind of contact, unfiltered, raw, almost too much.  
He looked like a droid and most of him was made of cybernetics, it was true, and yet there was a person still in there, who could suffer, feel pleasure and yearn for it, who could remember how it felt like to be fully alive, and know that he would never be whole again...  
She had never truly realised how much strength of will he must need just to find a reason to go on day after day, living like that.  
He never complained, never showed any weakness.  
She was the only one who knew about his yearning, the only one who had witnessed him nearly come undone for a simple touch. It had been her to send him over the edge. It was a fact she would treasure.  
She allowed feelings of possessiveness to run riot inside her only for a moment before she slowly withdrew her hand and backed off, giving him some space.  
She tried to blink away the moisture from her eyes, imagining that he would be furious and start yelling at her for witnessing his moment of weakness, but he just turned an unfocused gaze towards her and stared at her in silent wonder for long moments.

"Everything is still in one piece down there. - she said, breaking the silence when it became unbearable - But there is some bleeding in your lungs." she added.  
He shrugged.  
"It is permanent. They got damaged in the accident." he explained tonelessly, looking away.  
Asajj tried to tell herself that at least they didn't have much flesh left to oxygenate, but in that situation, that particular brand of dark humour wasn't that fun.  
In fact, it wasn't fun at all. It was very sad and terrible.  
The silence stretched again between them. It was him who broke it this time.  
"Thank you for helping me in spite of our differences." he said as softly as the vocabulator would allow, casting a brief glance her way before looking away in the distance. That was new, Asajj thought. She could use that opening to throw his weakness in his face, exploit that prime occasion to mock him and keep things as they were. Or she could be nice to him for a change and see what would happen.

Asajj nodded politely, if somewhat sketchily because of her injuries. "I was just returning a favour, General. Besides, if you died, I'd be left only with Dooku's pups and that crazy Gen'dai mercenary for company." she teased, waiting for his next move. He seemed to appreciate her humour, now that the teasing was not directed at him.  
"Ah. Then it's not just me... You don't go along with the other acolytes either, eh?" Grievous asked.  
Asajj scoffed. "I'd rather work with you, and that's saying something. - she teased again - They are even more arrogant than you are, and they don't even have as many kills to their credit. Even though I think Padawans should not count..." she added, unable to help it.  
"If they send them into battle, it's because they think they can handle it. I wouldn't send any of my children in battle if they couldn't stand a chance." he replied stiffly.  
Asajj didn't comment, but found herself wondering if he had had any children in his previous life.  
"Are you feeling any better, now?" she asked, changing subject.  
"Yes. Very much better. - Grievous replied - How is your leg?"  
Asajj shrugged. "I won't be running around anytime soon, but considering I could be dead, I'm feeling reasonably well." she said.  
Grievous nodded. "We're being picked up in four hours, if the buggers don't wipe us out first. They will have a proper medical bay, I assume"  
"Four hours?!" Asajj exclaimed, bewildered.  
Grievous nodded again. "Those bastards from the support fleet turned tail and fled. We've managed to contact Commander Lushros Dofine, but he has quite a long way to travel."  
"Damned Feds! This time I'm going to see them tried in court-martial!" Asajj exclaimed, properly incensed.  
"You and me both, witch. I'll even write the report with you, just to see the commanding officers shitting themselves in court." Grievous agreed quite vehemently.  
"That would be a sight..." Asajj admitted, laughing quietly.

They lapsed into silence again, but it was somewhat more companionable. Asajj wondered why he was tarrying with her instead of going back to the frontline, but she was not going to complain. She was happy to concede that he wasn't too bad company, if he was in a good mood. The explosion must have addled her brain...  
"Thanks for rescuing me before." Asajj offered, somewhat awkwardly, after few seconds, extending her own metaphorical branch of olive.  
"I don't understand why you risked your life for me like that, since you mostly can't stand me, but... Thanks anyway..." she added, shrugging as if dismissing her own words.  
Grievous did not reply, but pointedly looked away from her, and, judging from his hunched and defensive posture, seemed even slightly ashamed of himself. Talk about awkward...  
"You were having a flashback, right? Because of the explosion..." Asajj continued cautiously, complementing her observations with guesswork.  
More silence.  
Asajj was nearly resigned to letting the conversation fall, when he suddenly started talking.  
"It wasn't just the explosion. - he said softly - It was you. You reminded me of a person I used to know. I think you always have, and I had just never realised before." he added, turning back towards her with a sad, lost expression.  
Asajj looked at him in confusion. He never talked about his past to anyone, except to say that the Jedi had ruined his life. Should she feel honoured or just awkward?  
"The fight on the beach, and those blasted insects, and you were being dragged in the water... - he continued, nearly desperate - I... I don't know what happened. I had to do something! I couldn't... I couldn't let it happen again..." He lowered his head in defeat, curling further upon himself.  
"You could not save her. - she whispered, feeling again like she should do something, reach out and help him - Who was she?"  
Grievous shook his head. "I don't know... It's like when you try to remember a dream and you can recall what you felt, but not what you saw. And I know I should remember, but I can't, and she is lost... It feels like I've betrayed her..." he trailed off.  
"You loved her." Asajj said softly, sitting on her hands to repress the impulse to reach out for him.  
He raised his head again. "I don't even know if she is real or just a figment of my imagination..." he replied.  
Asajj could nearly feel a cloud of grief hovering around him, dark and dense, sucking away all the light and again wished she could do something.  
"But you saved me, this time." she said softly.  
Grievous gave her another long and intense look, then nodded. "And now you saved me. You saved all of us at the airstrip." he replied, sounding slightly less brokenhearted.  
Asajj smiled, glad of the recognition. She would have never thought he would acknowledge her intervention. The situation was getting steadily better.  
"I'd say we are even, colleague." she declared, upping the game even further. Would it be so bad if they managed to be civil to each other?  
"Didn't you say we were never going to be equals?" he asked, lightly but with a terribly serious undertone to his question.  
"Maybe I'm changing my mind..." she offered and she could see him light up like a youngling with a new present. It made her feel almost bad for the way she had treated him on Kamino, but, in her defence, there was already enough gossip about her, that she could hardly afford to be seen as dependent on any of her male colleagues.  
"Let me know when you have a verdict." he said eagerly and hopefully.  
Asajj smiled and nodded. Why was it so important to him that she of all people, should validate his status? Why not the other Acolytes, or Dooku, or Admiral Trench, or any other of the CIS officers? What was so special about her?

Searching for an answer, she had a better look at him, scrutinising, taking every detail in. Unfortunately, the first thing she noticed was that red fluid was dribbling down his mask in a thin rivulet from under his left eye, like a trail of tears, and that distracted her quite a lot.  
"You are bleeding." she warned, pointing to her own face to show him where. He must have reopened some wound when he had hidden his face in his hands earlier.  
Grievous touched a finger to the spot and it came back painted in red. He cursed in what sounded like a foreign language.  
"It's just a graze." he minimised, shrugging his armoured shoulders.  
"It's bleeding quite a lot. - Asajj objected, crossing her arms under her breasts - Let me have a look. You might have some shrapnel stuck in there." she instructed decisively.  
"It's nothing. Unhand me, witch!" Grievous protested, as she crawled back towards him and grabbed his forearm in support to hoist herself to her knees.  
"Stop fussing, you big baby! I can't see anything if you keep moving!" she scolded, grabbing his chin to prevent him from turning his head away.  
He could have stopped her, he could have thrown her across the room without any effort, but he did not.  
"I didn't know you were vying for the position of resident CIS nurse..." he teased, submitting to her touch.  
He didn't appear to mind the contact anymore now. He liked it, and she was reasonably sure he was trying to flirt with her, in his usual aggressive way. This time, she played along.  
"Hoping to see me in a sexy white number?" she purred, gently prodding the scaly, blood-red skin below his left eye.  
"It can hardly be more revealing than what you normally wear on the battlefield..." he commented haughtily, quirking what would have been an eyebrow on a humanoid.  
"I'm glad someone finally notices. I was despairing, truly..." she mock-simpered.  
She had noticed the looks he gave her sometimes, and the little show she had put up in the hangar, taking off her skirt in front of him, had just been a confirmation. She had done that mainly to rile him up. He might be lacking in equipment, but sure as hell he was not gender-neutral, or at least she had never considered him so, and she liked the effect she had on him. It could be just shallow lust, but at least it was personal.  
Grievous looked quite embarassed. "Well, I'm not blind! And if you don't want to be looked at, you shouldn't dress like that!" he protested.  
"I dress however the hell it pleases me. - Asajj replied firmly - That doesn't mean I don't appreciate that someone notices me as a woman." she added and continued her examination, noticing that once again he was leaning into her touch.  
"You are impossible to overlook, witch. - he replied - Ouch! What the...!" he exclaimed soon afterwards, batting her hands away decisively but still somewhat gently.  
"You've got a piece of something stuck in the wound. - she announced calmly - And by the way it's not a graze. I can almost see the bone." she added sternly.  
"Ah! I'll need stitches... Wonderful..." he commented grumpily.  
Asajj let go of him and used the Force to collect the first-aid kit from where it was lying across the small room.  
"Who would have thought the mighty General Grievous would be afraid of a few stitches?" she teased, getting a few pieces of gauze and a tube of bacta out.  
"I'm not afraid!" he bristled. The sensor panels he had on the sides of his head, where the ears would be on a rhoughly humanoid organic being, flattened against his skull like the ears of an enraged cat. She had never noticed that before, but apparently his mind subconsciously interpreted them as actual ears and moved them accordingly to match his expression.  
Asajj found herself smiling at the notion. He'd kill himself if he realised how strangely cute that made him look sometimes.  
"Sure you aren't..." she replied with a mixture of doubt and condescendence. She wet a few gauzes with some bacta, took one and thoroughly wiped the small tweezers from the kit. Hopefully they'd be equal to the task at hand.  
"It's just that... Be glad you don't have a Geonosian for a healer. They treat you like you aren't even there." Grievous said and Asajj detected a hint of nervousness in his voice.

She had partially tuned out of the Force and now she slid back in, noticing how his heartrate and breathing had accelerated, and that his eyes had gone a bit wider and a bit panicky. She had not done anything but cracking open the bacta, she thought, and then she realised that this was the problem.  
She had heard that he had been left soaking in a bacta tank for quite a while as the Geonosians decided how to fix him up, and, judging from how little was left of him, he must have been really mangled at the time. It was no wonder that the mere smell of bacta was enough to bring back bad memories.  
Asajj could feel him trying oh so hard to keep control and keep the panic at bay, but his gaze was starting to assume that faraway, vacant quality that indicated an impending flashback episode.  
He could probably snap out of it by himself, since he had already ignored a full-blown panic attack not long before, but it didn't seem fair to leave him to fend for himself, if she could help him. Having gone through PTSD herself after her master's death, she knew it wasn't fun.  
She needed to distract him, if possible, maybe talk to him, reassure him or something, and she needed to do it quickly, before he was sucked even further into the bad trip.  
It only took her a moment to realise that she had a way of taking his mind off the dangerous route, and at the same have a bit of fun for herself.  
He liked to be touched and to be treated like a person. She didn't have any problems with that, at the moment, and he had allowed her in his personal space already. Plus, he clearly found her attractive...  
She wondered how far she could push this.  
Would he allow her to try and seduce him? She was curious. He obviously hadn't seen any action of that kind after the accident, but she wagered he would be eager for it, judging from his earlier reactions.  
She could be the first into uncharted territory...  
She could make that arrogant prick beg...  
She could give that broken man some solace...  
So many reasons to try, none to stop her...

Nodding to herself, she dove deep in the Force to be better able to gauge his reactions and beat a hasty retreat if necessary, then, tweezers in hand, crawled straight onto his lap, straddling him.  
"What are you doing?!" he exclaimed, looking terrified. His eyes had gone very wide and even his surrogate ears had perked up in alarm, but at least he didn't look lost anymore. He was solidly grounded in the present and Asajj could sense his confusion, embarrassment and mild panic.  
It was so terribly amusing...  
"You're too tall and I've got a mangled leg, if you recall. - she replied, pretending to concentrate on the task - This is the only way I can fix you up."  
"You... I don't need..." he stuttered, clearly flustered.  
As Asajj had surmised, he was interpreting the situation as improper and suggestive, despite his lack of... equipment. He was very tense and was keeping accurately still, with his hands as far as possible from her body. Just like an awkward, unexperienced teenager...  
"Didn't you say that pickup is in four hours? - she asked - If it is so, I suggest that you stay still and let me work. The longer the shrapnel stays in, the more likely an infection is. I doubt it'd be fun with this mask if it starts swelling..." she added, gently tapping on his faceplate.  
Grievous cursed not quite under his breath. "A bit less than four hours but... - he had to admit - Blasted Feds! If I lay my hands on that officer from the frigate..."  
Asajj nodded sympathetically. "Neimoidians are an useless bunch, except for our Gunners. - she agreed - Now I suggest you stay still. And don't even think about trying anything funny, OK?"  
"I... I'm not that kind of person! - he replied, even more flustered - If anything, I would be more worried about you behaving improperly, witch..." he added, all righteous and proper, only to gasp in mixed pleasure and pain as she started cleaning up his wound oh so slowly and gently.  
"Do you think that I'm some sort of whore?" she asked softly, looking straight into his eyes.  
By the Force, she loved sparring verbally with him like that...  
"Aren't you? - he challenged, keeping his baleful golden gaze locked on her, but his voice was already becoming even raspier than usual - The other officers say that you got your commission by sleeping with Count Dooku."  
Asajj laughed. "Typical... Do you think it is the truth?" she asked, refusing to avert her gaze and try to explain like a "modest woman" would have done.  
He hesitated for a moment, possibly caught off-guard by her question.  
"No. You're too good a warrior to need to resort to something like that." he finally admitted, shaking his head.  
Asajj felt the odd impulse to kiss him. He might be a prick for many other reasons, but at least he respected her, most of the time, even though she was a woman. It was not an automatic given, within the CIS army.  
"What those jealous bastards say and what's actually true are very different things. - she replied with a smile - Dooku is old and sour like a lemon left in the refrigerator too long... I highly doubt that even with the aid of the Force he would be able to get it up." she added.  
He gave her a bemused and slightly disgusted look. "This is an image I did not need." he protested.  
Asajj laughed lightly, took the tweezers and grasped the end of the piece of shrapnel firmly.  
"If I had to pick someone to fuck in this army, he would be one of my last picks, just before Gunray and his cronies, the Geonosians, and Durge." she added, pulling on the shrapnel slowly but surely. Enough time had passed that it was starting to become embedded in the flesh, but eventually it came out.  
Grievous cursed softly and she quickly blotted the blood that was welling out with a bacta-soaked gauze.  
"Well, I never even thought you would sink so low, witch... I imagined you would have better taste in men." he retorted quite heatedly.  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." she said smugly, taking her time cleaning the blood and the spatters of bug fluids off his face.  
He was starting to lean into her touch again, relaxing just a fraction.  
"Dooku's pups wouldn't do either. There is enough Jedi left in them that they probably don't know what their tonker is for, and if I wanted to bang a Jedi I'd go for the real thing, thank you very much." she continued, leaning just so that her breasts grazed his armoured chest.  
She felt a minute shudder run all over him and mentally patted herself on the back for her insight.  
She had seen him fight, and walk, and just be himself, enough to realise that, even if his body was mostly artificial, he inhabited it quite naturally. He was graceful, in his imposing and menacing way, he had quirks and mannerisms, something that could not ever be programmed into a machine. It was not just lifelike, it was truly natural, and that could be only because his mind had adapted enough to consider his artificial body the real one, and this included translating the inputs from whatever sensors were scattered on his body into sensations.  
So, when she pressed her breasts against him just so, he didn't think about levels of pressure or temperature, but about warmth and softness. Consciously he probably realised it was not the same thing as true feeling, but he was responding to it readily enough.  
"That would leave you with few options, witch..." he gasped, clenching his fists at his sides.

Through the Force Asajj could feel the turmoil of his mind, how hungry he was for any kind of feeling, how much his loneliness was weighing on him. He yearned for company, for connection, but he was alone, trapped in between worlds.  
It was a truism among Force-users that most normal people couldn't be bothered to actually see what was in front of their eyes, and judged everything according to superficial appearances. Asajj had found that this applied to many Forceful as well.  
Almost everybody in the CIS leadership looked at Grievous and could not see beyond the mechanical exterior. They saw just a more complicated, more temperamental droid: an inferior, however useful.  
But no droid could banter with you, or mourn a lost memory, or be insufferably arrogant and pig-headed.  
Droids did not look up at you with wide golden eyes as if you were all their hopes and fears all rolled in one, and their emotions didn't shine so very bright in the Force that they could blot out the sun.  
He probably didn't realise it, but now he was giving her the keys to get a true hold on him, to control him, after a fashion. If she truly wanted it and played her cards well and thinking in the long term, she could bind him to her, effortlessly recruiting a powerful ally to her cause. She doubted that he would complain, if it happened. It was tempting, even though she didn't need a man to do her job.

"Well, General, if you were a bit more organic, I'd quite happily fuck you..." she purred, low and throaty, rocking her hips just so against his. Her heart was pounding and she gaspedd softly at the friction. She had not expected to feel aroused too, but her little game of seduction was affecting her as well.  
His eyes fluttered close for a moment and his hands twitched. "What makes you think I'd agree?..." he rasped, almost breathless.  
Asajj smiled seductively. "Have a think, General..." she breathed, close enough to him that he could probably feel the warmth of her breath on his face.  
"I know you watch me, and I think you like what you see. - she said, rocking her hips again slowly, over and over - We are quite a match on the battlefield. Don't you wonder if we would be quite as well matched in other ways?" she added, almost purring, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Now she realised that maybe she had always felt horny after fighting with him not just because she liked fighting, but mostly because she liked fighting against him.  
He shuddered and arched against the wall at his back. His control, such as it was, was fraying fast.  
"I even remind you of a lost love... Can you truly tell me that if the bloodlust was upon you, you would be able to say no to me?" she asked finally, tracing her tongue lightly along his surrogate ear as she rocked against him once more.

She felt his control snap as his need burned hot as a furnace. He thrust his hips upwards, matching her movements, and guided her with his hands on her waist.  
"You are not her. You can never be her." he gasped between thrusts, possibly more to convince himself than to complain.  
"No. I am me." Asajj replied, bracing herself on his shoulders to be able to ride him harder.  
"You are an infuriating, cruel, insolent woman." he growled heatedly.  
"And you still want me." Asajj purred, taking one of his hands and guiding it to her breasts.  
Grievous groaned wordlessly, closing his eyes in bliss. "Yes, oh yes... I want you so bad..." he gasped.  
He kneaded her breasts almost reverently, even though there was fire in his eyes as he opened them again to lock stares with her. His hands started roaming all over her hungrily, but oddly gently and his heart beat faster and faster.  
"I'd fuck you raw, if I could. - he growled - I'd make you beg for me to stop."  
Asajj moaned and writhed on top of him. She would have liked it very, very much: she was sure it would have been a thing to remember. It was a pity that some things were out of their reach.

Asajj could feel how desperate he was for more, and her own desperation was rising and rising to match his. They were well-matched even in this, apparently, she thought with a smile. That sense of connectedness was starting to return, letting her feel glimpses of what he was feeling. She surmised that it must be an effect of her Force, which she hadn't actually let go of yet, but this sort of thing had never happened to her with any other lover. Whatever the cause, she was fully determined to explore its possibilities.  
She could sense that her partner was nearly overwhelmed by what he was feeling, and yet a dark cloud was hovering over his thoughts. He worried that he wouldn't be enough for her, that she would reject and humiliate him because of this. He feared that bliss would turn into shame and he would be left even more alone than when it started.  
In his eyes, wild and unfocused, she could see the silent plead for her to make him feel whole again, if only just for a moment, but also the knowledge that it wouldn't be possible.  
It was heartwrenching.

Asajj rubbed her cheek gently against his mask in the closest approximation to a kiss she could think of.  
She couldn't explain to herself why she cared about what he was feeling, but she realised that she did, to a certain extent, and not just because having so much control over him was giving her the biggest rush of her life.  
She could feel his presence pressing against her like the tide against a sea wall. It was not as strong as that of a Forceful, but it was still heavy with the strength of his personality, and his determination and his terrible, terrible need.  
He wanted her so desperately. No other man had ever wanted her so much.

"Relax, let it happen. Let yourself feel. We have time..." she whispered.  
He nodded and closed his eyes, willing himself to relax, but she could tell he was still tense as steel wire and trying so hard. Too hard maybe.  
Asajj took a deep breath and tore down her mind shields, leaving herself open and vulnerable.  
She knew her feelings must be leaking all over him, so that he could read them even without the help of the Force. Even still fully clothed, she was revealing more of herself to him than she had ever done with a man. It was scary, but at the same time it made her feel even more wanton and turned up.  
"See how you make me feel? It is good. Stop worrying and join me." she said, rubbing her face over his again, gently but with intent. This time the connection allowed him to know that it was meant as a kiss. He made a soft keening sound and responded in kind, holding her close almost tenderly.  
"Yes... Just like this..." she whispered. Grievous interrupted the kiss just enough to look into her eyes. For a moment there was doubt within him, even fear, but it was burnt to ashes in an instant by his burning desire and steely determination. She could feel a slight shift in the Force, and then he tore his own defences down and met her halfway. The connection clicked in place, and suddenly they were both burning so bright.  
She was drowning in him, and he in her, and it felt so undescribably good. Whatever one of them felt, the other also felt, and it rebounded, intensified and unified like light in the amplification loop of a lightsaber.  
Asajj ground herself on him as he thrust desperately and they both gasped in shared pleasure, getting closer and closer to the brink.  
She touched and caressed him wherever she could reach, and he shuddered, lost in the illusion of being flesh again. She thought that would be it, that they would ride this wave of sensation to its culmination, when his left hand closed around her right wrist, stilling her hand.  
Asajj opened her eyes and frowned, looking at him questioningly.  
Gently, he guided her hand to the ragged hole in his chest and let go of her wrist.  
"Please..." he rasped, frantic with desire.  
Asajj held his pleading gaze for a moment and nodded, rubbing her face against his tenderly. "Try not to scream, or the lads will hear us next door..." she purred.  
Grievous let a shuddering sigh of contentment escape him and moved his hands back to her waist and backside, helping her move on top of him again and again, and the pleasure built upwards and upwards, until she felt like they could not contain it anymore and let her hand slide against that innermost part of him with a gentle touch.  
A jolt of unbelievable pleasure coursed through them both, sending them right over the edge into the white, blinding light.  
She bit her lower lip nearly bloody to prevent herself from screaming in extasy. Her back arched and her eyes fluttered closed as she nearly blacked out with the strength of their combined pleasure. Distantly she heard the growl of release he could not quite contain as they peaked in perfect synchrony.  
It felt perfect.

The throbbing pain from her mangled leg was slowly seeping through the pleasant drowsiness of the afterglow and the barrier of the drugs.  
Asajj Ventress determined that she would ignore it for as long as humanly possible. She wasn't exactly comfortable, but she was feeling too relaxed, satisfied, and peaceful to be bothered to stir.  
And the warmth... it was so wonderful to feel warm again.  
Asajj frowned at the odd notion, then realised that she had not pulled her shields back up again, and was still picking up on what her partner was feeling. It was odd, but not bad, and she didn't bother shielding up again just yet. She imagined that there would hardly be another opportunity to do so, and was determined to enjoy the experience to the end.  
She gently lay a hand on Grievous' mask, lazily tracing its contours, and he nuzzled against it, drunk with pleasure and sensation.  
It felt so good... She would have never imagined that banging him would have been so strange, so unlike anything else, but at the same time so intense and satisfying.

Grievous lightly caressed the back of her bald head, causing her skin to erupt in goosebumps. Asajj moaned softly and his cold, metal fingers slid along her jawline, skimming feather-light over her lips and making her shudder once again.  
Her tongue quickly darted out and caught the tip of a retreating finger. Asajj tasted metal and was rewarded by a startled intake of breath. A ripple of satisfaction passed through her. She wished she had time to figure out how many different reactions she could coax out of him. She liked her men vocal and responsive.  
His hand moved back to her jawline, lightly tickling her, then suddenly her chin was caught in a firm but still gentle grip and she was lead to look up into a pair of hooded golden eyes.  
"Why?" Grievous asked.  
"Why what?" she replied.  
"Why did you do this? All of this." he continued, gesturing widely with his free hand.  
"Why do these things usually happen?" she retorted playfully. He didn't seem particularly amused or distracted.  
"What do you want from me, witch?" he asked instead, sounding sad and disappointed, of all things.  
"I think I have already had everything I wanted from you. And in spades..." she purred, winking significantly, but this answer didn't seem to satisfy him either.  
Asajj concentrated on the wavering connection between them. She could feel his doubt and his fear that this unexpected wonder would turn to more pain, that it had been just a ploy, only pretence. Now that the rush was fading, he started thinking that she must have had some ulterior motive for banging him. It couldn't have been just because of him. It just couldn't. There was nothing left in him that could make a woman want him for himself.  
He was feeling used and worthless, and this was making his anger bubble up under the surface, like a pool of lava.  
If it hadn't been because of his issues, she would have taken offense at having the old cliché of the woman shagging her way to power thrust upon her.  
"Look, General, it's not like you are my superior and I'm trying to shag my way into some sort of advantage. - she said in a very practical fashion - You do your stuff, I do mine, we occasionally work together because we have to. What could I get from you that I couldn't conquer on my own?" she asked.  
"The truth is, you were going to freak out, and I tried to distract you. Then I got curious, I wanted to try. But basically I banged you because I felt like it. - she continued, shrugging nonchalantly - And why not? I wanted it, you wanted it, and we're both consenting and unattached adults. There is not a single reason why we shouldn't have done it." she argued calmly, but he still looked unconvinced, even if less angry than before.  
"There is nothing wrong with what we've done, General. - she added softly, caressing his mask again with all the tenderness she could muster - We had fun and we felt good. Don't complicate something simple."  
Grievous let go of her chin and looked at her wistfully. "You lie so beautifully, witch..." he sighed. He wanted so hard to believe her that it nearly hurt. It was left unsaid, but she heard it nonetheless.  
"I'm not lying to you. - she whispered, looking straight back at him - It did feel good and you know it. You were there with me, in me..." she added, rubbing her face against his suggestively, then her nerve failed and she couldn't say the rest out loud.  
"You felt me peak, and it was so strong that I saw stars, and it was because of you... And I know you came so hard that your heart nearly stuttered, and it felt so good... You felt so good..." she thought as loud as she dared, hoping that he would be able to catch it. And catch it he did, closing his eyes and hissing in pleasure at the mere memory.  
Asajj smiled. "I've had fully organic lovers that didn't feel half as good as you did, you know? - she revealed - I only regret that I didn't get to hear you scream... Maybe next time..." she whispered.  
"N-next time?!" Grievous stammered with an almost comical look of astonishment.  
Asajj shrugged again. "Yes, why not? A less public place, fewer wounds... Sounds appealing, doesn't it?" she offered, smiling suggestively. She was sure it would be good.

Grievous shook his head and tapped a fist against the floor. "Stop it witch. Stop talking like this! - he pleaded more than ordered - Your words... They feel like the truth, but it can't be. How could you accept... this?" he asked, spreading his arms to the sides, highlighting how mechanical he was, how unnatural.  
"I accept what you are, General. I did not know you before, so I have nothing to compare you to. - she replied calmly and sincerely - I see who you are now, and I'm fine with it. Well, when you are not deliberately being an asshole... Why are you trying to pick at something that is working? You are overthinking all the situation. If you ever were married, I hope you didn't question your wife like that everytime you had sex with her..." she teased.  
Grievous snorted and shook his head again. "Alright. I desist. So are we... colleagues with benefits, as they say?" he asked, sounding slightly amused.  
Asajj smiled and winked. " You're so old-fashioned... We're fuck-buddies. I like the sound of it better." she replied playfully.  
"You are a such a sweet-talker, witch..." he commented in the same tone and his eyes crinkled at the corners, in what, Asajj realised, had to be his version of a smile.  
She had never seen him smile before, not like that, without murderous intent but just because he was happy.  
It was so unlike him, but somehow it looked... just right. It made him look young and almost beautiful.  
Later she would tell herself that it was just because of the incipient fever and of the endorphines still flooding her system, but as he hesitantly rubbed his masked face against hers, she could not repress the impulse to hold it in her hands for a moment and deposit a feather-light kiss at the corner of one smiling, golden eye.

Grievous was struck speechless, and before he could decide whether to be pleased or furious with her, Asajj's wounded leg decided to seize up. She cried out in pain.  
"I'm sorry, I need off." she gasped, trying to find a way to change position without putting too much strain on it.  
"What's wrong, witch? It's your leg, isn't it?" Grievous asked, sounding worried and looking like he did not know what to do.  
Asajj nodded. "It hurts like hell." she admitted.  
She tried to support herself on his shoulders and lift herself off, but her head started spinning like crazy and she lost her balance, crashing back down against his chest.  
"Damn it!" Asajj cursed, fighting against a wave of nausea.  
"You're not well." Grievous commented gravely and, before she could regain her composure enough to reply, he had wrapped his hands around her waist again and lifted her up as if she didn't weigh anything, rearranging her so that she was sitting across his lap.  
"Hey! Why did you do that?!" Asajj protested weakly, feeling vaguely humiliated, but mostly nauseated.  
"You had to take your weigth off that leg and you need to rest. - Grievous replied - I think this is marginally more comfortable than lying on the ground."  
"I wouldn't be so sure... You're quite hard and pointy." she teased, but she was truly bone-weary, so she rested her head against his shoulder and curled up a bit. It wasn't too bad actually.  
Grievous wrapped his arms around her. "Try not to drool, please." he warned. He was trying to sound gruff and annoyed, but she sensed he was feeling oddly pleased about the situation instead. She was quite sure it had something to do with her warmth, but also with sheer male pride.  
As much as it hurt her independence, she couldn't deny that it felt good to be held like that. It made her feel cherished. She could hear his heart beat strong and steady. It was surprisingly relaxing.

"Don't get strange ideas in that crazy head if yours, understood? There is nothing to read into this. - she mumbled sleepily, trying to clarify her position - I am only letting you get all cuddly because I am wrecked. I'm going to start calling you sweethart or darling or anything like that." she added.  
The sound he made could have been a bout of coughing or a small laugh.  
"I understand. And I agree, no pet names. It would be undignified for both of us." he added dryly, but still with a hint of laughter.  
Asajj nodded. "But I still get to call you clanker boy." she added.  
Grievous nodded. "It's an insult, not a pet name, so I guess it's acceptable. - he argued - And I can still call you witch, because..."  
"If you are going for some pick-up line like 'because you are charming' I am going to be very disappointed" she interrupted him, casting a playful glance at him.  
Grievous laughed again. "I was going to say that it would be unfair otherwise. You should get some rest, you are not talking any sense." he advised almost gently.  
Asajj tried to think of a biting riposte, but it felt too hard even just to string a coherent sentence.  
She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and promptly slipped into a deep sleep.


	3. What is lost, what is left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: semi-graphic description of violence, character deaths, implied cross-species relationships.
> 
> Grievous might seem a bit OOC here, but I'm trying to show him reverting to his old, pre-accident self.

She was dreaming of the desert on Rattatak.  
The air was parched and dusty and the ground so hot that it burned the soles of her feet through her boots...  
 _No, it was a jungle, it was hot but humid and she was barefoot, enjoying the feeling of the rich forest loam under her soles and between her toes, the smells of the plantlife all around her and the feel of the wind on her skin..._  
Her fallen master Ky Narec, the man who had rescued when her parents had been killed, and raised her, and taught her to fight, was with her...  
 _No it was a tallish man with scaly brown skin, carrying a long rifle. He was dressed in a bone-white mask, a loincloth, and little else. It was Grievous' mask, she realised dimly, or a very close version of it, but the eyes that peeked out were orange rather than golden..._  
Her master started talking to her, sounding just like a loving father, even though he wasn't.  
 _The strange man spoke with the same language he was speaking was liquid and songlike, full of strange sounds that had no place in Basic. It was alien, but at the same time it felt like home._

She was running among the rocks...  
 _the trees..._  
... as fast as her legs could carry her. She felt good and carefree, even though she knew that she would have to return to her duties soon. Running like that, however, was thirsty business and soon she paused at a pond...  
 _A stream..._  
The still water reflected her image like a mirror. She looked like she had when she was sixteen, maybe seventeen, her face still fresh and her expression still soft, her skin pristine and unmarked by tattoos, like a canvas waiting for the first brushstroke.  
Then suddenly the surface of the pond rippled, showing her a completely different image.  
 _It was a young man, or rather a boy, of maybe fifteen, lanky and sinewy like he had not finished growing yet, set against a backdrop of dark green foliage. His skin was scaly and red-brown like dried blood, and he had a rifle slung around his back, like the man from before. The boy wore a white headband from which locks of inky black hair peeked out. His face was covered with a mask of carved wood. Eyes of liquid gold looked back at her from the pond, wide with amazement._

A scream tore her from the image in the water and she started running again in its direction...  
 _ **No, they both started running. They ran as if their own lives or something even more important were at stake. They ran until their lungs burned and they could taste blood at the back of their mouths...**_  
She arrived at the rock-carved house she shared with her master...  
 _He arrived at the hut in the clearing where he lived with his father..._  
Weequay raiders were upon him, yelling curses as her master danced among them, blue lightsaber flashing...  
 _Giant insects with huge pincers crowded him, chirping and chattering. He fought valiantly, handgun in one hand and sword in the other..._  
 ** _...but the enemies were too many and they were getting tired._**  
She activated her lightsaber and waded in the fight, cutting two of them down before they even realised her presence, then cut a bloody path among the rest, trying to get to her master's aid...  
 _He unholstered his guns and started firing with abandon, uncaring about conserving his ammunition for another fight. His bullets hit their marks, sending bits of bug and ichor flying all around. Ducking and weaving his way through the melee, he shot his way closer and closer to his father..._  
 ** _... they fought like demons, like they had never fought before, determined to protect the people they loved, unmindful of wounds, fatigue and pain..._**  
... but her master was shot in the back by one of the raiders...  
 _... and his father was cut down by huge pincers..._  
 ** _... and the world stopped turning for a long, long moment, and they couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't feel, as if their hearts had been carved out and their chests had been left hollow and empty..._**  
... and she was shot down too. A fiery flower of pain blossomed in her chest and her knees buckled, sending her sprawling to the rocky ground...  
 _... and he was caught in the back by a hooked leg-spike. He turned around to shoot his aggressor, only to be brought low by a blow to the head that knocked him unconscious and face-down on the ground..._  
... the surviving Weequay left, laughing and complimenting each other for their deed...  
 _... and the Huk retreated, composite eyes glittering unmerciful under the sun..._  
 ** _... they crawled..._**  
... to her master...  
 _... to his father..._  
 ** _... gasping and whimpering in pain from their wounds, but, as they knelt next to their loved ones and cradled them uselessly with bloodstained hands, it was not physical pain that made them cry bitter tears. It was the hollowness inside of them, the knowledge that their loved ones would never talk to them, that they would never see them smile again. Now they were really and truly on their own, with no one to love them unconditionally, no one to protect them. They couldn't save the people they loved, but slowly desperation turned to anger and hate, giving them strength. They could still avenge them, make the bastards pay their deaths a hundred times, a thousand times over..._**  
She picked her master's saber from the dust and attached it to her belt next to her own. She would slay them with it, honouring his teachings and his memory...  
 _He picked up his fathers' mask with bloodstained hands and left his own wooden one fall to the ground. It would be the last thing they saw when they died, and they would realise why he was slaughtering them..._  
 ** _Their childhood, such as it had been, was over_** **.**

Asajj awoke suddenly, tear-stained eyes shooting open in the murky penumbra. Strong arms held her down as she struggled for a moment, still caught up in the dream and unknowing of where she was.  
"Calm down, it was just a dream, only a dream..." a deep and raspy synthetic voice said, somewhere over her head.  
Asajj tried to focus and remember where she was.  
Grey, concrete walls and low light, and the cloying smell of fruit. The shots of small-caliber blaster guns resounded relatively close by.  
Her right leg sent jolts of pain up into her spine, throbbing in time with her heartbeat, and her head felt like it was full of fluff and at the same time as heavy as lead.  
She forced herself to stop struggling against the iron grip that held her and looked up, straight into concerned golden eyes.

"General... What happened?" she slurred, finally, recalling the battle and everything that happened afterwards.  
"I don't know... You fell asleep." he replied.  
Asajj blinked a few times, trying to sort her thoughts out.  
"In my dream... You were in it." she managed. He had been young, and whole, and she had felt his loss mirror her own almost uncannily.  
Grievous nodded gravely.  
"I thought you didn't ever sleep." she objected.  
"Never since they made me into this. Not until today." he admitted.  
"Am I that boring?" she joked, shoving the dream away. She couldn't afford to think of her master. Not now.  
Grievous laughed quietly. "No, you're that good..." he replied suggestively.  
He paused for a long moment, considering her with fondness and wonder. "It seems that you are making me rediscover many things that I believed lost." he said softly.  
Asajj averted her eyes, almost awed by the weight of his gaze. "Glad of having helped." she replied, mumbling the words against his chest.  
"I need to go, now. I don't know how long we've been sleeping, but the attack has started and lads are bound to need some guidance." Grievous continued, almost apologetic.  
She tried to nod, but was nearly overcome by a bout of nausea. Why did she feel so tired if she had just woken up? Why did everything ache and did her skin feel like it was on fire?  
"What is wrong with me?" she whispered, frowning.  
"You've got a fever, witch. You're burning up." he replied, laying a cold, metal hand on her brow.  
Groaning in pleasure, Asajj leaned into his touch.  
"Guess thermal sensors are useful sometimes..." she teased, grabbing hold of his wrist to prevent him from taking his hand away.  
"I don't need sensors to know this. I'm Kaleesh, we can sense heat." he replied, sounding rather offended, but he didn't try to take his hand away.  
"Like snakes..." she said, recalling from the dream that he had been some sort of lizard-person before.  
"Like snakes." Grievous confirmed.  
"How does it feel? Can you see it? Or smell it? Or what?" she asked, guiding his cool hand down to the back of her neck.  
Grievous lowered his head until his mask nearly touched her brow. "It's difficult to explain. It's a bit like seeing a smell. - he explained quietly -You're bright with fever at the moment, witch."  
"My leg must have gotten infected." she rasped, trying to plaster herself against the cool plates of his armour to get some relief.  
"Wounds of that sort often do, especially in these climates. - he said, hovering closer and closer, as if he wanted to kiss her - Are you going to be alright if I leave you here for a while? Do you want me to send Nyto over?" he asked then, gently laying his masked cheek against hers.  
Asajj tried with limited success to shake her head. "Leave Nyto be. I'll be fine. I'm sure I'll be fine if I sleep a bit more." she whispered.  
Grievous sighed and picked her up gently, carrying her in his arms to the improvised pallet Nyto had laid out for her. He knelt to the floor and laid her down gently and attentively. She didn't protest. It was nice to be handled so carefully, like something precious. Ever since the death of her master, no one had taken care of her like that. She knew that she didn't need it, but deep down she still wanted it. It was good to know that someone would be there for you.  
"Get some rest, witch. We'll all be next door." Grievous tried to reassure her. She nodded, shivering slightly. Grievous sighed and took off his tattered, heavy cloak, laying it down on her.  
Asajj nodded in thanks and snuggled gratefully into it, curling up onto her side to conserve heat. The cloak smelled like blood and explosives and faintly like metal, but it was soft and warm. Grievous looked down at her with wonder and an odd, hungry intensity, as if he was trying to engrave the scene in his mind. She looked back at him, wondering why she felt the impulse to hug him, the needy bastard.  
A scream, coming from the front room, interrupted their contemplations.  
"The lads!" Asajj mumbled  
"I have to go. Try to get some rest." Grievous instructed, getting back to his feet.  
"Will do. Try not to get shot, alright?" she mumbled, barely intelligibly, as he picked up a stray piece of tarpaulin and sprinted away to rejoin the troops. Things were getting too interesting to be put to an end already.

Pleasant memories, new worries and wonder were instantly filed away as Grievous entered the front room where his men were fighting.  
One of the lads was on the floor, thrashing and screaming, a hand reduced to pulp by what appeared to have been an explosion. Blueish blood was pumping from severed vessels and the medic, Nyto something or other, was having a hard time tying a tourniquet around his arm while the lad went into hysterics.  
A couple of other Gunners appeared to have sustained minor injuries from the shrapnel of the explosion. The building was under fire from the ground and stray blaster bolts rained through the windows, but the situation still looked under control.  
Grievous ignored the complaints of the integrity sensors and the residual pain in his chest and ran to the victim's position, pinning him down.  
"Calm down, lad!" he yelled, hoping to snap him out of his fit.  
"It hurts! It hurts so much!" the boy screamed.  
Grievous nodded sympathetically.  
"I know, I know..." he said, and he did. Burns and amputations hurt more than any other wound, but he couldn't afford to think about it just now.  
"It's on!" Nyto exclaimed, but Grievous didn't let go of the lad.  
"Have you got any painkillers?" he asked the first-aider.  
"Yessir!" Nyto replied, appearing in his field of vision.  
"Then pump him full. - he instructed - That needs to go." he added, jerking his head towards the ruins of the Gunner's hand.  
"I-I don't have a bone saw!" Nyto replied, sounding distinctively panicky and nearly fumbling with the vial of painkiller and the syringe.  
Grievous turned towards him with a baleful expression. "What sort of medical officer doesn't have a bloody bone saw?!" he snapped.  
"Well, I'm no bloody medical officer! They didn't assign one to us! - Nyto yelled back showing a remarkable lack of fear - I picked up some training and stole some kit, but I couldn't find a fucking bone saw!" he explained, jabbing the syringe full of painkillers into the wounded Gunner's upper arm almost vindictively. The boy slumped nearly immediately. It must have been strong stuff.  
"What the...?! - Grievous started, but the lack of proper medical officers wasn't the most urgent point - Never mind. Grab the plain metal saber from my belt. That will do the trick."  
Nyto nodded decisively and did as instructed. He held the hilt upright and very carefully. Grievous belatedly realised that the lad had actually brushed his hand against him while collecting the blade. He had barely noticed, caught up in the urgency of the situation.  
"Press the button." he instructed. Nyto activated the saber and stared at it in wonder as the blade boiled out into a shaft of green energy.  
"Press it again. You don't want it this long." Grievous added, amused by Nyto's reaction. The boy obeyed and the saber shortened. The short blade was seeing a lot of action, lately.  
"Be careful. The weight is all in the hilt." he warned.  
"It's very light." Nyto commented thoughtfully.  
"Yes it is. A single slice will do. Straight through and into the floor, OK?" Grievous explained.  
"It's not my first amputation, sir." the lad replied, quite piqued.  
At the word, the wounded and sedated Gunner revived instantly and started thrashing with renewed vigour. Grievous had been paying him little attention for a moment, and the lad nearly broke free of his hold in sheer desperation. "Please, no! Don't take my arm off! Please!" he screamed, tears streaming from his eyes.  
Nyto hesitated, actually deactivating the blade in case the situation got out of hand.  
"Do you need help, sir?" someone yelled from the rest of the room.  
"It's all under control!" Grievous replied over his shoulder, splitting his arms to have a better grip on the thrashing Gunner.  
"Listen to me, lad! Listen! - he shouted, getting the Gunner's attention for a moment - Your hand is already gone. If you leave it like that, it will only get infected. You will die."  
The lad closed his eyes and shook his head convulsively. "I don't want to die!" he sobbed.  
"What is your name, soldier?" Grievous asked, wondering why he was being so gentle with the lad. Well, why shouldn't he, he asked himself a moment afterwards. Didn't he do this for his men, back home? The Gunners were not Kaleesh, but they were his nonetheless.  
"Tranh. I am Tranh Deko." the Gunner sobbed.  
"Listen, Tranh, we're not going to let you die. - Grievous said - Let Nyto help you. It is going to be better, once it's done."  
Tranh nodded weakly, tears streaming out of his eyes, and forced himself to stop struggling.  
The blade hummed back to life. Tranh whimpered and instinctively tried to turn his face towards the noise.  
Grievous let go of him with one hand and forced his gaze away.  
"Don't. Look at me. It's going to be fine." he instructed.  
Tranh nodded meekly and kept his eyes trained on Grievous, tensing up to brace for the fall of the blade.  
Out of the corner of his eye, Grievous saw the blade arcing down in a dazzling green curve. The Gunner's flesh sizzled and Tranh let a harsh cry escape his lips and then it was over.  
Nyto deactivated the saber and undid the now-useless tourniquet.  
Tranh slumped down in pain and exhaustion, and Grievous let go of him."You've been a brave lad." he said, and it sounded natural.  
This was how a warleader treated his warriors. It was as if he was falling back to a familiar pattern that he had somehow forgotten out of dealing only with droids and cowards.

"That went smoothly. - Nyto commented, handing the saber back to him with a bow and breaking him out of his reflections - Thank you for the help, sir." he added with a smile.  
Grievous shrugged awkwardly. He was not used to be thanked sincerely anymore.  
"It was nothing." he said.  
Nyto knelt by Tranh and manged to hoist him up over his shoulder in a fireman's grip.  
"Come on, brother. Let's get you to somewhere more comfortable." he exhorted, but Tranh was mostly unresponsive.  
"Private, since are you going that way anyway, have a look at Commander Ventress. - Grievous instructed - She was starting to come down with a fever."  
Nyto nodded. "I don't have any antibiotics, they always keep them under lock and key, but I'll see what I can do." he replied, then staggered away, swaying under the weight of his taller comrade.

Medical emergency sorted, Grievous turned his full attention to the ongoing fight. First of all, he needed a weapon, but that was quickly sorted by grabbing one of the spare rifles stacked on the floor by the door.  
"Private Cato!" he called out, then. Several grey-green faces turned towards him.  
Grievous repressed a bout of irritation and quickly dashed to the position of the one he already considered the unofficial leader of the squad. What the hell did the others had to gape, was anyone's guess.  
"Welcome back, sir!" the lad saluted, shooting a precise, three-bolt spray with his semi-automatic blaster and felling a too-daring Naqdaan drone. It was a neat trick.  
"Report, Private. What happened to Private Deko?" Grievous inquired.  
Private Cato shrugged. "A faulty blaster cartridge, I reckon. - he replied - Tranh slotted a new one in, took his first shot and off went his hand..."  
"Has it ever happened before?" Grievous asked, as he started to return fire as well.  
"Explosions? No, not before today. - the Gunner replied thoughtfully - Faults? Plenty, especially with the semis and especially since they changed supplier. The new cartridges are mighty dodgy." he added with a fatalistic shrug.  
Grievous cursed. "And why did they have to change supplier?" he asked.  
Garu shrugged again. "The new stuff is less expensive."  
Bloody Feds, Grievous thought. How could they be so ready to put the safety of the troops in jeopardy for some penny-pinching? He wondered if that had been a decision that affected only Neimoidian troops, or if that idiotic decision had been hidden in the piles of paperwork he occasionally had to sign and which he read very seldom. He would have to dig into that, as soon as he got back to base.  
"Do you have any of the old cartridges left?" he asked.  
Garu nodded. "I've told the lads to use those first, but Tranh must have gotten them mixed up. Shit happens, I suppose. Thankfully, he always shot one-handed, the show-off..." he commented wistfully.  
"He's going to be alright. - Grievous said, even if he didn't know exactly why he felt like he should reassure the Gunner - Nyto did a good job of it, even if he is not a true medical officer. Why don't you have one, by the way?"  
Garu shrugged again. "We are Unclaimed. I bet they judged we weren't worth the effort." he replied.  
"Why would they?" Grievous asked, failing to understand.  
"Because we are Unclaimed. I think the closest equivalent in other cultures is orphans. But being Unclaimed is worse. Everyone assumes that you have something wrong, that you are worthless." Garu explained, taking another shot.  
"And you are all... Unclaimed? The whole squadron?" Grievous inquired.  
Garu nodded. "Yessir. All of us."  
"And how did you get into the Gunners? Isn't it an elite corps?" Grievous asked, shooting down another bug.  
"By trying really hard and not accepting no for an answer. - Garu replied - They've never sent us on an actual mission before, though. And even now, they sent us only to spite Tok Ashel."  
Grievous mulled the answer over in his head. "So Tok Ashel was in disgrace?" he asked.  
Garu shook his head. "More of an inconvenient upstart that needed a dressing-down. - he explained - He wanted to make an impression with this mission."  
"I suppose he did make it. In blood, somewhere in the sand out there." Grievous commented ungraciously.

Garu burst out laughing. "Gruesome, but true." he commented.  
"I think you lads are doing fine, private Cato." Grievous added.  
Garu beamed in pride. "Really, sir? This is... This is worth all shit we had to endure until now, you know? - he gushed, inordinately happy about such sparing praise - And please sir, for practicality's sake, call us with our given names. Half of us are Catos here. We take our surnames from the planet we were born on." he explained.  
That surely put the earlier incident in perspective, Grievous thought.  
"Right. Garu it will be, then." Grievous acquiesced.  
Garu beamed again but didn't say anything, turning his face towards the window. Grievous followed his example.

There were quite a lot of Naqdaan soldiers creeping among the grass in the middle distance. Luckily the road passing just in front of the building was a pretty decent danger zone, free of all cover. Occasionally an over-excited Naqdaan squad would make a dash for it, but they were easy pickings.  
Grievous hoped they didn't find the resolve to attack en masse before their pickup was scheduled to arrive. He judged that they could destroy them by sheer numbers alone. If only they had some artillery or at least a couple of machine - guns...  
"How long to pickup?" he asked.  
"A little over two hours and a half. You were out for just over an hour, sir." Garu replied.  
Grievous nodded in thanks.

Just over an hour. So little time, so much had changed... It was as if reality had subtly shifted its axis and everything suddenly looked different, new, even himself. He had been shown that his life could be... normal? No, not normal, never again. It would always and inevitably be different, but it could still be full and pleasant in its way.  
He could still be with the woman he desired and make her feel good.  
He could still inspire his soldiers and have their spontaneous respect.  
And he couldn't even begin to think about how he and the witch had clicked together, both on the battlefield and afterwards... how for a moment they had been like one... It had been... perfect.  
There was more to his life than endless anger and vigil. He hadn't realised until now.  
But now he knew. Maybe he should stop lamenting what he had lost and concentrate on what he had left.

"Sorry for leaving you high and dry right at the start of the attack." he told Garu, feeling awkward and unused to the situation. He had not apologised to anyone in a long time.  
Garu shrugged. "You needed rest, sir. Good thing Commander Ventress managed to help you. - he said - That's a big hole, though..." he added, eyes wide, after casting a quick sidelong glance at his side.  
Grievous shrugged. "They'll fix me up once we're back to a CIS base. For now it should be alright." he said and reached out for the piece of tarpaulin he had picked up in the other room. He quickly wrapped it around his chest, looped it over his right shoulder and tied it firmly with a knot. That should prevent the Naqdaans from realising how much of a good target he was offering, and would also keep the breeze at bay. He hated being colder than usual.  
"Oh, here they come again..." Garu commented.

A score of Naqdaan footsoldiers detached from the main body of the troops, carrying what looked like plates of hammered metal in their hands. They advanced slowly, in a compact formation, keeping the plates angled towards the incoming fire from the building. The blaster bolts mostly ricocheted without harm.  
"Hold your fire! We need to spare ammunition!" Grievous yelled. The Gunners promptly ceased firing.  
"Do we have any grenades left?" he asked Garu. He didn't usually rely so much on his aides, but in this case, he was still making it up as he went, without prior knowledge of his troops and the available equipment.  
"Better than that." Garu replied, then switched his wrist comm on.  
"Van, brother mine, have you seen who has come out to play?" he asked.  
"'Course I did, bro. Can I have a go?" they asked from the other side.  
Garu looked a question to his superior, who hadn't really understood what was going on, but decided to go with the flow and nodded.  
"By all means, brother!" Garu exclaimed.  
The conversation was cut. For a moment nothing happened, then a rocket flashed through the open space between the building and the incoming Naqdaans, smashing onto the formation with a resounding explosion. The formation was stopped and nearly blasted off the face of the planet. Pieces of bent metal and mangled body parts were all that was left of it.  
The Gunners saluted the shot with a chorus of catcalls, exclamations and laughter.  
"Van is the one with the stolen RPG, right?" Grievous asked.  
Garu nodded.  
"Is he really your brother?" Grievous inquired again.  
"Same litter. As close as twins. - the lad replied proudly - Leth, there, is the last of us. We also have a sister, but she didn't enlist."  
Grievous followed the pointing hand of the Gunner and saw a lad who looked like a younger and more cheerful version of Viceroy Nute Gunray. He turned back to Garu with a questioning look. Garu shrugged and looked slightly embarrassed. "It is a long story." he said.  
"Later, then. When we are out of here." Grievous conceded. The Gunner nodded. "Yessir!" he exclaimed.  
"Good, now brief me about the state of the squad." Grievous ordered.  
The lad beamed again, seemingly thrilled, and started talking concisely and precisely. Maybe he didn't know the correct forms and procedures, but there was a lot of untapped talent in him.  
"I'll make an officer out of you, Private Garu Cato..." Grievous silently vowed.

For about an hour, nothing major happened at the juice factory. There were a few more desultory assault attempts from groups of Naqdaan footsoldiers, and brief exchanges of fire, but overall the situation seemed quiet.  
Maybe the Naqdaan thought that they had them cornered and trapped, so that they could take their time with them. Or maybe they were just biding their time while they organised a more serious attempt. His instincts told Grievous that the second scenario was the most likely. The buggers had already demonstrated enough deviousness by rigging the whole beach as a trap, and he hadn't survived thirty-odd years of fighting by being hopeful and optimistic.  
Preparation was the key.

It was time to have a better look at his warriors.

Upstairs, the snipers' unofficial leader was a girl of maybe eighteen called Auray. She looked slightly like a Duros, with her blueish-green skin, and was probably beautiful by Neimoidian standards, but most importantly she was level-headed and organised, if still a bit wet behind the ears.  
And by the gods, the girl could shoot! She had been the one to steal his kill at the hangar, and even during his brief inspection he saw her bag a couple of very neat kills. Grievous exchanged a few words with each of the snipers, trying to commit their names and their young, noseless faces to memory.  
The Gunners reacted to this like it was lifeday coming too soon. He praised their conduct and performance in the previous engagements of the day, and he could see their faces lighting up in pleasure and pride.  
They needed someone to give them purpose and a sense of belonging.  
He could be that person. He could take them under his command, and transform those abandoned children into the most feared élite force of the CIS.  
Taking a deep breath Grievous forced himself to focus on the present. They needed to survive the next hour and a half first, but he couldn't deny that he liked the idea of having something to look forward to.  
He let Auray operate as unofficial platoon leader. She would make a good Sergeant. Maybe it was greedy of him, but in the background he was already making plans for organising the Gunners under his command. Since the Feds considered them worthless, he doubted they would object.

Downstairs the situation was slightly more alarming.  
"Careful, bros, you don't want to make the whole building go kaboom already, do ya?" someone shouted as Grievous entered the main room. The entire floor appeared to have been systematically stripped of any metal and electrical equipment, which apparently was in various stages of conversion into an array of improvised pieces of artillery.  
Five Neimoidians were presiding over the chaos, eyed apprehensively by the handful of B1 droids manning the windows.  
The Gunners had forsaken their bronze armour and helmets and were busy piecing together what looked like a big IED derived from a boiler under the guidance of the Engineer they had rescued at the hangar. An acrid odor floated in the air. A sensor sent an alarm to Grievous' mind. He briefly concentrated on it to decipher its meaning. Apparently the concentration of nitrogenated compounds was well over the safety levels.  
Fertiliser bombs! His Gunners were assembling fertiliser bombs in the building!

He'd had enough targets rigged with them during the Huk wars to know how devastating they could be. If a stray blaster bolt came in from a window, the whole building would go to hell.  
He felt the impulse to yell at them, then quickly repressed it. He didn't want to startle them and trigger an explosion. He tried to calm down, instead, and waited until the piece was assembled, before clearing his throat loudly. The Neimoidians readily turned towards him.

"General Grievous, sir! How can we help ya?" Van Cato asked, saluting smartly.

He had ditched the jacket as well and was standing there in a vest, showing lean muscle and what must be a dark tan for a Neimoidian. Now that he knew what to look for, Grievous could see the lad's resemblance with Gunray. It was not as marked as Leth's but it was definitely there.  
"Are you insane to build so many bombs here?" he rumbled ominously.  
"Only slightly, sir. - Van replied cheekily - We haven't inserted the triggers yet."  
"What about enemy fire?" Grievous insisted.  
"See that line there, sir? - the Engineer chimed in pointing towards a spray-painted mark on the floor - Enemy fire has less than 1% probability of going beyond that. We should be relatively safe." he concluded, shrugging.  
Grievous shook his head. "Even so, I expect you to ask the authorisation of your CO before pulling a stunt like this, next time." he chided.  
"Yessir!" Van acquiesced, looking only moderately chastised.  
Grievous stalked around the room, examining the contraptions, then stopped in front of some oddly familiar improvised mortars.  
"These are nest-blasters!" he exclaimed.  
"You like them, sir? Linlin found the plans for them on a HoloNet forum a while ago." Van explained.  
"They work like a dream and you can make them with almost anything." a woman who must have been Linlin added, wiping her greasy hands on her tunic.  
Grievous nodded. "I know. - he replied, slightly dazed, as a stream of memories surfaced in his consciousness - We used to make them with fertilizer stolen from the Huk plantations and gas canisters, on Kalee. We couldn't afford real artillery back then." he explained softly.  
Ummar... it had been his cousin Ummar who used to build them in a clearing in the forest. He remembered him now, remembered Ummar's wife arguing with him that it was too risky and that he should stop. He remembered Ummar laughing and saying that he wasn't afraid because the gods protected him.  
Brave Ummar... He tried to duel a Jedi during the Republican invasion and the bastard cut both his hands off. He crippled him, instead of giving him a warrior's death like he deserved. Hopefully the money he had sent back home during the years would have been enough to pay for prosthetics...

Grievous forced himself to cut the stream and resurfaced in the present.  
"Are you alright, sir?" Van asked.  
"Yes, private. I was just... remembering. - he replied - Have you ever used them before?"  
Van and Linlin both nodded. "On the shooting range on Neimoidia. Blasted through a few of them to test them." she replied.  
"And the rest of the IEDs?" Grievous asked.  
"Murko's idea." Van replied.  
The Engineer nodded. "I'll light them up as we leave the building. It's payback for the beach, sir. " he explained.  
"We even got incendiaries." another Gunner chimed in, jerking his head towards a row of bottles filled with murky liquid.  
"Nar Shaddaa fire-bottles... You learned that from the Net as well?" Grievous asked, slightly sarcastic.  
"Nosir! - the Gunner replied - From a book. Theory and practice of guerrilla warfare. It always pays to be up-to-date, sir."  
"Do your comrades upstairs know how to use them?" Grievous inquired.  
The Gunner looked a question at Van, who nodded.  
"We tried them at the shooting range as well. Ain't got a lot of range, but they work. Everyone of us has had a go at least once." Van replied.  
"We used to rig slugthrowers to give the bottles more range. - Grievous reminisced - They worked wonders on light personnel-carrier vehicles."  
"Heh! Everyone here likes their bugs crispy!" Van laughed, soon joined by his comrades.  
"I guess we do. - Grievous replied with a hint of laughter - Private Bookworm, what is your name?"  
The Gunner coloured a darker shade of green and became bright with embarrassment. "I'm Neshros Koru. Nesh for short, sir. He is Atinay Deko" he replied, pointing first to himself and then to the remaining Gunner.  
"Well, you two grab half of the bottles and distribute them to your comrades upstairs." Grievous ordered.  
"Yessir!" they exclaimed, promptly starting to divy up the stash.  
"You are going to be the artillery today. - Grievous continued, clasping his hands behind his back - I want you to mow down any armoured unit approaching the building. Use the RPG first. Don't give your new weapons away too soon and leave the IEDs for emergencies or to cover our retreat. Understood?"  
Another enthusiastic chorus of assent saluted his words.  
"Good. I count on you, lads. Make me proud." he concluded.  
He thought he almost saw Van tear up at these words and the answering battlecry nearly deafened him.  
He climbed upstairs with the two Gunners carrying cratesfuls of fire - bottles in tow feeling remarkably smug.

All hell broke loose almost exactly twenty minutes after he had returned to the first floor to talk with Garu.  
"They are coming from the cliff!" someone shouted from the top floor.  
Blaster shots started pattering at a high tempo.  
"Incoming! Armoured formations!" one of the lookouts shouted.  
"And so it begins..." Garu commented, blood draining from his face.  
Grievous looked out. There were at least five or six armoured formations advancing towards the building and more were being kept in reserve.  
Shouts and blaster fire kept resounding from the floor above them. It was a fully fledged two-pronged attack and the snipers were the softest target.  
"Private Garu Cato, you are now Acting Captain of this lot." he declared and Garu nearly shot his own foot in astonishment. Grievous didn't leave him the time to protest and ploughed on.  
"Coordinate with Van downstairs. Don't let the buggers come closer than the road. I'll go upstairs and make sure the roof remains under our control." With this, he grabbed the rifle and dashed to the door.  
"Be ready to evacuate the wounded to this room, if we loose the top floors!" he added, turning back on the threshold.  
Acting Captain Garu managed to get his act together in time to yell "Yessir!". As Grievous climbed the stairs two at a time, he heard Garu start to yell commands to the Gunners. The first RPG shot exploded above the confusion, then the unmistakable sound of fire-bottles crashing on permacrete and wooshing up in flames started to fill the air. Grievous wished he could grin.

Upstairs, Auray had organised half of the snipers around the stairwell coming down from the roof, while the rest covered the windows. The stairwell was narrow enough that the buggers could only negotiate it two at a time, giving the Gunners the chance to pick them off one by one.  
"They got us by surprise, sir, but we managed to reconquer the floor." she explained, wiping the blood from her slashed cheek with her sleeve.  
The attack had cost them dearly, though. Arlune, the other sniper girl, was lying on the floor dead and already shriveled, and Dott was curled on his side, trying to keep his innards from sliding out of his wounded abdomen.  
Grievous activated his wrist-mounted short range comm. "Garu, do you copy?"  
"Yessir! Loud and clear." Garu replied.  
"Send Nyto up! Quick!" Grievous ordered.  
"Right away, sir!" the Acting Captain exclaimed, switching off the comm on his side.  
Nyto tromped up the stairs in a moment, and dashed to the wounded Gunner's side.  
"We need to keep the roof free for evacuation." Grievous explained to the snipers.  
"It's going to be a bloody mess. There are too many of them." Auray grimaced.  
Grievous nodded gravely. "I'll take care of this, but I'll need cover."  
Auray sighed in relief. "You can take Tush with you, sir. - she offered - He's the quickest shot of us all with blaster pistols."  
Tush, short for Tushramos, grinned proudly. "I'm a good dodger too, sir."  
He looked too young for the scar that crossed his face and the two semis he carried at his waist.  
"Let's roll, then." Grievous acquiesced.  
Both him and Tush left their rifles on the second floor and crept up the stairs. Grievous took point, two sabers at the ready, and Tush crept behind him like a shadow. The stairwell was momentarily clear and they arrived unimpeded to the landing at the top. Grievous flattened himself to the ground and peered through the half-broken door. From there, he could see at least ten buggers up top and some ropes dangling from the cliff.  
He half-turned towards Tush and signalled twice by opening and closing his hand. He hoped the lad would know that an open hand meant five no matter how many fingers a person actually had.  
Tush nodded and handed him a grenade from his belt. Grievous looked a question to the Gunner, but he just nodded again.  
Might as well.. Grievous thought. He tore the safety out of the grenade, counted to two, allowing the fuse to burn part of the way, and then slammed the door open and hurled the grenade towards the middle of the huddled buggers, flattening himself on the floor once more. The grenade exploded a moment before it touched the ground.

The buggers had barely the time to be surprised before they had to start looking for their body parts on the floor.

"Come on, lad! Charge!" Grievous ordered, popping up and starting to run.  
"Hell, yeah!" Tush yelled, a few paces behind him.  
The cyborg quickly dispatched the shrieking, wounded buggers, but soon more of them were upon him. He split his arms in two and kept the two upper ones rotating defensively. Hopefully the Naqdaan would be to worried about the lightsabers to notice the gaping hole in his armour. Tush had taken cover behind one of the air vents and was shooting like there was no tomorrow, one blaster in each hand. Thankfully blasters didn't actually recoil, otherwise none of his shots would have actually hit its target, even with the buggers packed tight as they were.  
Grievous could hear the sounds of the battle below. It sounded like a veritable inferno. The RPG kept on booming, regular like a metronome, and the deeper explosions he could hear must have been the nest-blasters. Fire-bottles, grenades and blasters added to the chaos. He ignored the sounds, trusting Garu, Van and Auray to handle the situation. At the moment all he had to think about was keeping the buggers away from the roof.  
He waded deeper in the melee, spinning his arms and torso around like a buzzsaw. Chitinous body parts were sent flying around, even as pincers and claws scratched and gouged the duranium plate, sending small flares of signal into his mind from the integrity sensors.  
"Sir! From the cliff! Take cover!" Tush yelled.  
Grievous stopped the rotation and threw himself reflexively behind a corner of the elevator box, trusting Tush's warning. It was just in time, as blaster fire started pouring on them from above. The Naqdaans on top of the cliff didn't seem to mind hitting their own comrades to catch them. Insect species were often extremely callous towards drones and soldiers, as they could be cheaply mass-produced from unfertilised eggs.  
Flattened against the wall, Grievous could barely make visual contact with Tush, who had managed to wedge himself into a nearly impossibly tight space.  
"Tush! Any grenades left?" Grievous yelled.  
"Yessir!" the Gunner replied.  
"Can you send them up top?" Grievous asked again.  
"Can try, sir!" Tush yelled. The Gunner laid his blasters on the ground and took off his helmet. He had some sort of scarf wrapped around his head, probably to prevent the helmet from chafing. He quickly unwrapped it, grabbed it as if it was a sling and accomodated the grenade in the middle. The Gunner cast a quick look up and around the edge of his hideout.  
"Ain't got enough space! Any chance of giving me cover, sir?" he asked.  
Grievous cursed. He had left his blaster with the witch, and in the ensuing confusion, had forgotten where he had put it. He only had his sabers now, and they were useless at the moment. Or were they?  
The Jedi were known and extremely annoying for being able to deflect blaster bolts with their lightsabers like it was nothing harder than playing racketball. Dooku hadn't taught him that particular trick, and he had always assumed that it was because it required the Force to work, but, now that he thought about it dispassionately, it was all a question of timing and reflexes.  
He only had to put his sabers in the right place at the right time, and the repulsion between the laser blade and the plasma bolt would do the could do it, probably.  
Most likely.  
Well, if he never tried, he'd never know.  
And if he failed he'd only manage to end up full of holes like Onderonian cheese.  
"Ah, fuck this!" he thought, abruptly curtailing his internal debate, and leaped out of his cover, sabers in hand.

He was just lucky that the Naqdaan soldiers were even more scared than him by the sudden turn of events to actually react quickly enough, but it didn't take them very long to start concentrating their fire on him. Grievous dodged and sprinted from cover to cover, shifting their attention away from Tush, but soon he would run out of space and covers. He had to make a stand, however briefly, to give the Gunner a bit of time to do his trick.  
Taking a deep breath, the cyborg skidded to a halt and started rotating his upper arms to protect his face, while he worked the other two sabers in front of him to intercept the incoming bolts. If he concentrated hard enough, he could figure out the trajectories of the single bolts, angles and speed, and determine the exact moment when he had to swing his saber around. The impact of plasma on laser reverberated strangely into the hilts, making them vibrate in his grip, as if they were engaged in a particularly fierce bladelock.  
He was doing it!  
The knowledge couldn't help making him feel smug.  
"Fire in the hole!" Tush yelled finally. A grenade sailed through the air in a neat parable, raising higher and higher, and just clearing the lip of the cliff before exploding. The rain of fire ceased for a moment, as the Naqdaan retreated in disarray. In the confusion, corpses and wounded buggers hurtled down from the cliff.  
Tush yelled victoriously and threw another grenade, increasing the chaos. He was overconfident, though, and was nearly shot down in retaliation by a high-spirited Naqdaan when he didn't retreat fast enough.  
"Take cover, you moron!" Grievous yelled, diving behind one of the air vents himself.  
He had had the beginner's luck, so far, but he reckoned he needed more training before he could pull that sort of stunt for any extended period of time."We need to retreat to the stairwell!" he ordered, after a brief reflection.  
They had managed to repel the Naqdaan from the roof and bloody their noses quite badly, but there was no way they could dislodge them from the cliff with a few slung grenades, some deflected bolts, and an ungodly dose of luck.  
"Yessir!" the Gunner yelled back. He unholstered his guns and sprinted to the open space before the next cover, guns blazing to intimidate the enemy.  
Grievous followed his lead, moving in leaps and bounds between hideouts.  
The Naqdaan were firing vindicatively, and at the last sprint, a bolt reached Tush just before he could dive into the safety of the stairwell.  
Seconds behind him, Grievous dashed in and nearly stepped on a trio of Gunners huddling on the threshold. He took a leap forward, barely clearing them as they ducked, and caught himself, even if barely, on the side walls, finger- and toe-claws gouging deep furrows in the permacrete.  
"For the sake of the gods! - he exclaimed - What the hell are you doing here?!"  
"Acting Sergeant Auray sent us up, sir. To cover your retreat." one of them, who might have been called Khod, explained, looking rather intimidated.  
Grievous took a deep breath and lowered himself to the steps.  
"Do you have any grenades or fire-bottles?" he asked.  
Maybe-Khod and his mates nodded.  
"Good. - Grievous commented - Keep the roof clear of buggers. Request reinforcements if you need, but keep it, understood?" he ordered.  
The two nodded again. "Yessir!"  
Tush instead was too concentrated on peering into a tear in the left leg of his trousers.  
"Are you alright, soldier?" Grievous asked.  
Tush nodded weakly, pale under his dark green tan. "Went straight through the outer side of my tight... Could have been much worse." he commented, gritting his teeth against the pain.  
Just behind him, his comrades were starting to shoot at some unseen assailant. It was no place for a casualty to be.  
Grievous hesitated for a moment, caught between his instinctive reaction and the fear of being shunned, then extended a hand towards Tush. "Come on soldier, let's get you out of the danger zone." he said.  
The lad grabbed his hand without hesitation in a strong, confident grip. His hand felt solid and warm in the cyborg's metal grip. It had been ages since he had taken someone's hand like that.  
The Gunner let Grievous help him to his feet without a second thought, without showing the least revulsion. "Thanks, sir!" he said with a pained smile.  
"Can you walk?" Grievous asked.  
Tush nodded grimly and braced a hand on the wall. Grievous wrapped an arm around the Gunner's waist, and let him put one of his around his shoulders for support.  
Luckily Tush was tall even for a Neimoidian, and they slowly managed to negotiate the stairs, Tush cursing softly at every step, and him marveling at the way the Gunners seemed absolutely unconcerned and accepting about his condition. To them it didn't seem to matter that he was a cyborg, they treated him with respect, even with awe, but like a person. He could get used to that.

"Here you go, soldier. Have a rest. - Grievous said, helping Tush to sit down on the second floor - You did a great job out there."  
The Gunner grinned despite the pain. "Thank you, sir! It's been an honour to help you. - he said cheerfully - When I enlisted, I would have never thought that I'd be fighting alongside the likes of you. I mean, I'm Unclaimed, and you are the Supreme Commander... It's something to tell your kids about..." he added.  
"You might be Unclaimed, but you are a true warrior. It has been an honour for me as well." Grievous replied, laying a hand on the Gunner's shoulder and nodding gravely.  
The sudden arrival of both Nyo and Dyoc was the only thing that spared him from seeing a grown Neimodian cry like a kid.  
The semi-official medic zoomed in on the wounded Gunner, while Dyoc ran straight to him, looking like he was going to jump out of his skin from the sheer excitement.  
"They made contact!" he exclaimed.  
"Who?" Grievous asked, slightly flustered.  
"The battleship Fortressa! Commader Dofine wants to have words with you, sir. He's on hold downstairs." Dyoc replied.  
"And you left him like that?!" Grievous asked, dashing down the stairs.  
"Everyone's a bit busy down there, sir... Had to carry the message myself." Dyoc gasped, trying to keep up with him.  
Everyone was busy indeed. Garu was nearly hoarse from yelling to make himself heard above the din of the battle and all hands were occupied discharging all the available firepower on the incoming buggers.  
The holographic image of Lushros Dofine, instead, seemed intent at watching the show with the critical eye of a connoisseur, nodding to himself every now and then.  
"Ah, General, - Dofine greeted, seeing him enter the holo-comm field of view - I'm relieved to see that you managed to hold out for so long, after all. We're a bit ahead of schedule. I trust it will be a welcome piece of news."  
"This is the best news I've heard in a while, Commander." Grievous admitted, bowing politely.  
Dofine smiled a satisfied little smile. "Your communications officer sent us your precise coordinates already. How many people will we need to collect?" he asked.  
Grievous did a quick head-count. "Twenty-six Gunners, seven B1s, me, and Commander Ventress. We have two critically injured people, and two other wounded."  
Dofine scratched his chin pensatively. "I'll send two shuttles plus aerial support. Be ready to evacuate in ten minutes." he instructed.  
Grievous nodded. "Make a couple of strafing passes on the cliff overlooking our position, if you will. We'll evacuate from the roof." he advised.  
Dofine nodded. "Agreed. See you all in ten." he said and cut the communication.

"Did you hear that, people? We're going home!" Garu yelled. The Gunners answered with a deafening roar.  
"We've got ten minutes to go still, let's blast those buggers to the end!" Garu added, shouting into his comm to make sure the units downstairs and on the top floor would also know.  
"Nyto! - Grievous called out - Report here!"  
The medic appeared swiftly, wiping his bloodied hands on a piece of fabric. "Reporting, sir." he said wearily.  
"We are evacuating from the roof in ten minutes. - Grievous announced - What is the situation with the casualties?"  
"Dott and Commander Ventress will have to be carried. Tranh and Tush can walk. - Nyto replied calmly - The rest are minor injuries. They can fend for themselves"  
"I'll take care of Commander Ventress. - Grievous declared - You grab one of your mates and look after Dott."  
"Yessir!" Nyto said and promptly started looking for a volunteer.  
Grievous tarried for a moment to watch his Gunners at work, then slinked into the back-room.

Tranh was awake and staring in front of himself in the distance, but he snapped out of his funk when he saw his CO enter the room.  
He tried to salute, but his right hand was missing and his arm was suspended from his neck in a sling. Even in the semi-darkness, Grievous could see his face become bright with embarrassment.  
"Be at ease, Private. - Grievous whispered - Rejoin your comrades, we're leaving." he instructed.  
Tranh nodded mutely and slinked away, staggering a bit because of the drugs. There was something wrong with the lad, but it would have to wait.  
Grievous walked as silently as he could to the pallet where the witch was resting.  
She was sleeping fitfully, twitching and whimpering softly like a restless katara hound, and her skin was still very bright with fever. Even so, she was huddling under his torn and dirty cloak, holding it fiercely even in sleep. It must have been because the fever was making her feel cold, but Grievous couldn't help but feel a little bit of possessive satisfaction at the scene.  
"Time to wake up, witch..." he whispered, or near enough, kneeling on the ground next to her.  
The witch twitched a bit more and slowly opened her eyes.  
"What... what has happened?" she mumbled weakly.  
Her feelings were still leaking all over the place and he could almost taste her confusion and pain and her need for someone to be there for her, to support her as she fought her battle with illness and pain.  
"We're going. The Fortressa is here." he said. Unable to resist the temptation of warmth and contact, he laid a hand on her burning forehead, and for barely an instant he felt her relief reverberating through him. He closed his eyes and savoured the closeness, then realised what he was doing, withdrew his hand, and hastily cut off whatever metaphysical shit he had unwittingly been doing. He needed to concentrate for a while more to see the evacuation through, before he could indulge in that, whatever it was.  
"Uh... Don't go away..." the witch protested softly and Grievous nearly yielded there and then.  
"I'm here. You're coming with me." he replied disingenuously, leaning over and picking her up in his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.  
"Let's go." he said, struggling to come to terms with the odd tenderness he was feeling at the moment.  
The witch nodded and he rose to his feet, just as Nyto and another shortish Gunner came in with a makeshift stretcher to pick up Dott.  
As they entered the front room, the first Trade Federation armoured shuttle was entering the operations area, guns blazing. The high-caliber lasers vaporized scores of buggers, raising plumes of soil and debris high into the air as they hit the ground. From the sounds of it, at least another one was strafing the cliff just above them, as agreed.  
"Everybody to the roof in orderly fashion, boys and girls! We're going home!" Grievous ordered, jerking his head towards the stairs.  
The Gunners saluted his words with a loud "Hooray!" and filed up the stairs, hauling as much gear as they could carry. Grievous let them pass and joined the queue only when he saw the artillery emerge from the ground floor.  
"The fireworks are armed, sir." Van announced, sauntering up the stairs.  
"We'll give them a parting gift they will remember. " Murko chimed in, grinning like a maniac as he held an ominous-looking remote.  
"Keep that safe, soldier!" Grievous ordered, starting to get irritated with the careless attitudes of the artillers.  
"I'm not a soldier..." Murko protested feebly, pocketing the remote.  
Van encircled the Engineer's thin shoulders with his arm. "You fought with us, you are our brother now." he declared.  
Murko gave him a goofy smile and did not reply.  
"First shuttle's landed!" yelled one of the outlooks.  
To their credit, the Gunners didn't pile up like maniacs trying to get in first, but climbed the last flight of stairs to the roof in reasonable order.  
The shuttle hadn't actually landed, but had docked on the edge of the roof and was hovering in place. Another shuttle and two gunships were circling above their heads, keeping the area clear.  
"Casualties first!" Nyto shouted.  
Garu turned towards his CO for confirmation and Grievous nodded.  
"You heard him!" Garu yelled.  
Nyto and the other Gunner carrying the stretcher went in first, followed by Tranh and by Tush, who had been aided up the stairs by one of the girls from Garu's team. Grievous went in after them.  
"Me and Auray will go in the next." Garu announced as he passed by them.

In a few minutes, the shuttle had loaded its cargo and taken off to exchange positions with its twin.  
Before five minutes at most had passed, both shuttles had been loaded and were leaving the operations area.  
Grievous looked out of the window and watched the wretched airstrip and the factory become smaller and smaller in the distance.  
He nodded towards Murko, who had managed to board the same shuttle in the evacuation. The Engineer beamed and pressed the button of his remote with undeniable satisfaction.  
The resulting explosion was strong enough to rock the climbing shuttle and sent a plume of flames and debris high up in the air. The concrete and steel skeleton of the building collapsed upon itself as if in slow motion.  
The Gunners hooted and cheered. Some boy, whose name Grievous didn't remember, hugged Murko so hard that the Engineer gasped for breath like a stranded fish.

From the stretcher where he had reluctantly deposited her, the witch watched the whole scene with bright and slightly unfocused eyes, chuckling quietly under her breath.  
"We made it." she whispered, snaking a hand out of the cloak to gently touch his.  
"Yes, we did. We're not a bad team, are we?" Grievous whispered back, feeling oddly contented even though the mission had ended in a disaster.  
The witch smiled and gave him one her long, considering glances. "No, we're not..." she agreed, linking her fingers awkwardly with his and nodding off again.  
The wild cheering and joking of the Gunners, overtaken by the sheer happiness of being still alive, continued unabated for a while. Grievous didn't even notice.  
He just sat there in silence, contemplating their mismatched hands, tangled together.


	4. Battleship Fortressa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relatively fluffy and innocuous, apart from a remembered death. The scene was lifted almost precisely from the biography of Subcomandante Marcos, except that in reality it was not his son, but a girl from a village in Chiapas.
> 
> Flame all you want, I'm fireproof.

The powerful tractor beams of the Lucrehulk-class battleship deposited the shuttles in the ship's massive hangars without a hitch.  
Grievous reluctantly disentangled his hand from Asajj's and stood up. He didn't want to leave her, but he had to respect Neimoidian formalities and greet the Commander.  
The shuttle's landing bay opened and he stalked down the gangway and towards the cluster of officers gathered to welcome him, acutely aware that he must look quite bedraggled, without his cape and with strips of tarp wrapped around his chest.  
He shook his Neimoidian officers would probably look askance at him even if he didn't look like he had been through the wars.  
He shouldn't be ashamed of what amounted to battle-scars.

"Welcome back on the Fortressa, General." Commander Dofine greeted, bowing from the waist.  
The gaggle of officers followed his suit, and Grievous had learned enough about Neimoidian customs to know that he had to respond in kind. Failing to do so would be a terrible offence to the Neimoidians.  
In another situation he might have considered it, but Dofine was actually one of the few Neimoidians he respected and who respected him.  
"I'm honoured of the hospitality, Commander. Thank you for coming to our rescue." Grievous replied bowing stiffly.  
Dofine pursed his thin lips. "It is my duty as an officer in this army to assist you, and to make amends for the dishonour of my compatriots." he replied pursing his lips.

Out of the corner of his eye, Grievous saw Nyto trying to coordinate the transport of the wounded. Medical droids forced even Tush and Tranh on gurneys and started to wheel everyone away, mostly ignoring him.  
"That soldier down there, - Grievous pointed out - he is our medical officer. I formally request that he is given clearance to the infirmary. "  
Dofine nodded. "Agreed. - he said - Where are the rest of the officers from the expedition?"  
Grievous shrugged, then belatedly remembered that the Neimoidians considered it an uncouth gesture. Well, they would have to deal with it.  
"We lost contact with the command of the expedition. I suppose they are dead or have been captured. We didn't have any way of finding out. - he explained - Commander Ventress has been wounded, but, if you allow me, I would introduce to the officers of the 15th."  
"By all means." Dofine conceded placidly.  
The other officers, instead, grimaced and quietly shook their heads.

Grievous turned around and signalled to Auray, Garu, Dyoc and Van to come closer. The Gunners approached cautiously, stopped beside him and saluted smartly.  
"Gentlemen, I believe you already know Corporal Dyoc Koru, the comm officer." he began, and the poor boy's eyes went so wide that Grievous feared they would roll out of this their sockets.  
"This is Captain Garu Cato, - Grievous continued, feeling proud and amused at the same time - Sergeant Auray Enac, leading the snipers, and Sergeant Van Cato, leading the artilliery." He purposefully omitted the "Acting" in front of their new grades. The posh boys from the Fortressa would give them a hard enough time even so.

"They must be a fine squadron, these Gunners from the 15th, to be the only survivors of the expedition." Dofine commented. The junior officers grimaced some more, but didn't dare contradicting their superior.  
What was left of Grievous' face twisted into an almost-smile under the mask. "They are." he said.  
Dofine smirked and bowed again. "Will you and your officers do us the courtesy of joining us on the bridge, General?" he asked ceremoniously. High-ranking Neimoidians were extraordinarily fond of ceremony, and Dofine didn't make exception, even if he was cut from a different cloth from the average upper-class Neimoidian.  
"With your permission, sirs, I will join you later. - Garu chimed in - I have to make sure that my men are properly settled in for the trip." he added proudly.  
Dofine cast an amused glance at the General.  
"Permission granted, Captain." Grievous acquiesced.  
Garu bowed stiffly, then saluted, before turning sharply on his bootheels and running towards his comrades.  
"I should go with him, sir, to oversee the cargo, you know... " Van offered nervously, eyes darting between the retreating form of his brother and the bunch of officers from the Fortressa.  
Grievous sighed. "Go ahead, Sergeant. Make sure the explosives are properly stowed." he conceded.  
Van bowed sketchily and belted away after his brother.  
"Shall we go now, or do your remaining officers have somewhere else to go as well?" Dofine asked, arching an eyebrow in dry amusement.  
"Let's, by all means." Grievous replied.

Dofine nodded and turned on his heel, mirrored by his cadre of seemed to be moving in formation, which was a bit creepy, Grievous thought.  
He, Dyoc and Auray followed them out of the hangar and into a turbolift, up to the higher levels of the ship, and then down a corridor leading to the circular core of the ship.  
Auray and Dyoc did their best not to stare and gape like country bumpkins, but a wash of awe was evident on their faces. The Neimoidians' obsession for protocol and ceremony dictated that no soldier below the rank of Lieutenant was to be admitted to the high levels or the core of a Lucrehulk-class ship, except if following their superior's explicit orders. The two had never seen a ship's bridge before, and looked quite excited by the prospective.  
He had felt like that when he had first set foot on a long-hauler, Grievous remembered in a fleeting flash of images and feelings.

The bridge was an awe-inspiring sight indeed, well-organised and free of the unnecessary trappings rich Neimoidians usually surrounded themselves with to showcase their status. It was almost spartan in its essentiality, but Grievous could distinguish several pieces of top-of-the-line equipment in addition to the ship's standard gear.  
As he had already occasion to see during their flight from Geonosis, Dofine took extreme pride on the fact that the Fortressa was the best ship of his class and he certainly made sure that it remained so, by careful and tasteful improvements.  
"We will be making a landing at the naval base on Raxus Secundus. - Dofine announced - Our ETA should be close to three hours, so you might want to take a seat, gentlemen." he added, sitting down himself.  
Grievous nodded and took a seat around the briefings table, next to Dofine. Auray and Dyoc followed his lead and kept close to him, while Dofine's officers took what he supposed were their usual stations.

"Can I offer you anything, General?" Dofine asked, true to form to the point of absurdity. Or was he?  
Grievous thought about it for a second and bit back the sarcastic reply he had been about to deliver. Probably his officers were too low-rank for Dofine to offer them food or drink directly, but his question was leaving an opening for him to make a request on their behalf.  
"I require nothing, thank you Commander, but my officers have been fighting for hours. I'm sure they would appreciate some refreshments." he said finally.  
Dofine nodded and smiled, looking almost pleased that he had understood his subtle meaning.  
"I'll have something brought up from the galley. - Dofine acquiesced, pressing a button on the console - In the meantime, why don't you give us some details on how you ended up in such a sticky situation?"  
Grievous didn't really feel like it, but there was no polite way of bailing out of that, and he owed the Neimoidian too big a favour to just tell him to sod off. He nodded.  
"Of course, Commander." he assented, and started recounting the events of that most amazing day.

By the time Grievous had finished delivering an expurgated version of the story, he had talked for long enough to tire himself and to be plagued by an irritating series of coughing fits.  
In the meantime, Garu and Van had managed to join them and refreshments had been served. His officers were now busy eating pungent-smelling dishes of marinated fungi and moulds, and quaffing cups of fragrant fuit juice. Grievous didn't care about the food, even if the Neimodians seemed very enthusiastic about it, but he would have given anything for a cup of cold juice to soothe his throat.  
"It is a truly thrilling story, General, a fine example of the bravery of our troops." Commander Dofine commented, aiming a sketchy bow towards the Gunners.  
"And also a showcase of what does not work in this army." Grievous objected archly, and promptly started to cough again.  
Dofine nodded. "I want you to know that I wholeheartedly support any legal action you and Commander Ventress will undertake against the deserters. - he declared - I know a very good litigator, in case you need it. I can put you in contact, if you wish." he offered after a brief pause.  
Grievous gave him a perplexed look, then nodded politely. He had never given much thought to the proceedings of the Court Martial. In truth, he had no clue about how it worked.  
Idly, he tried to recall how they dealt with deserters on Kalee, but drew a blank. It mustn't have been anything nice. Then again, contrary to the Neimoidians, his was a fierce people and very few people left the battlefield and their comrades until they were either victorious or dead.  
"Thank you Commander." Grievous said finally.

The door to the bridge opened with a soft hiss and Nyto dashed in, looking flustered and alarmed. The medical officer pulled up short in front of the briefings table and bowed deeply.  
"Have you come to join us, medical officer...?" Commander Dofine greeted placidly.  
"Nyto Enac, sir. - the Gunner completed - Unfortunately not, sir, we have something of a medical emergency down there." he added.  
Grievous tensed on the chair, feeling a trickle of apprehension creep into his mind.  
"What has happened?" he barked, more brusquely than he had intended.  
"It's Commander Ventress, sir. Her condition is nearing critical stage." he replied, mortified.  
Grievous jumped to his feet. "Take me to the infirmary. Now." he ordered. Nyto nodded and started back the way he had come.  
"Excuse me, Commander, I..." Grievous belatedly said to Dofine, turning back on the threshold.  
The Neimoidian nodded. "It's no problem. Send my best wishes to Commander Ventress." he said.  
Grievous nodded and dashed behind Nyto down the corridors of the Fortressa.

Grievous hated medical facilities.  
He hated the cold white lights, the gleam of sleek instrumentation, the beeps and hisses of sensors and life support equipment, and especially the pungent smell of bacta.  
A mere whiff of the thing was enough to make him feel uncomfortable and trapped, and the medical facility on the Fortressa _reeked_ of it.  
Grievous had to pause on the threshold and steel himself, cursing whoever thought that it was a good idea to let him keep a gagging reflex. He was fine, as fine as he could ever be, and no one was going to stick him in a bloody bacta up and get in there, he told himself.  
Taking a deep breath, he stepped in.

The witch was lying motionless on a camp bed esconced behind a greenish privacy screen that separated it from the beds of the other Gunners. Her skin was covered by a fine sheen of sweat and was flushed almost pink and bright with heat.  
"Her temperature is reaching the safety limits for near-humans." Nyto announced grimly, checking the sensor readings against the standard table displayed on a nearby datapad.  
"Didn't you give her antibiotics?" Grievous asked, trying to keep calm.  
"A full dose, and intravenously to make it quicker, but they take time to act. - Nyto replied, pointing to an IV drip taped to the back of the witch's right hand. - She'd need antipyretics to lower the fever, but there are none specific for near-humans in the infirmary. This is a Neimoidian ship..." he added apologetically.  
Grievous looked at the reading on the monitor and then back at the witch. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her breathing, and he could see her pulse jump erratically on the side of her neck. Her brows were drawn in a frown and her dark lips pursed in a grimace.  
She was not truly sleeping, but their voices and the confusion of the infirmary couldn't rouse her.

"Why did you call me here, soldier? I'm not a doctor!" Grievous growled, turning back to Nyto.  
Seeing her like that without knowing what to do was making him feel helpless and useless, and he hated that feeling.  
"I need you to authorise me to give her the antipyretics we have here." Nyto replied quietly.  
"Will they work?" Grievous asked, allowing himself to feel a bit of relief.  
Nyto hesitated. "They might. - he replied - But they might give her a severe allergic reaction." he added.  
"And what if they do?" Grievous inquired, out of his depth.  
"It might be fatal, especially in her conditions." Nyto admitted, shaking his head.  
"No. This is unacceptable." Grievous declared firmly, feeling his insides freeze with dread.  
"I don't like the odds either, sir, but if we do nothing, she will start having convulsive fits because her nervous system cannot cope with the heat. She might have brain damage or die." Nyto retorted heatedly.  
Grievous shook his head and took a step away from the Gunner before he did something stupid like hitting him.

Neither option was acceptable.  
The witch could not die, not like that, on a bed hooked to a machine, and not now, after what had happened on Naqdaa.  
He would not let her.  
There was bound to be another solution. He only needed to keep his cool to see it.  
"Water! We need cold water to lower her temperature and give her more time." he realised in a flash of inspiration. They would have the right kind of drugs at the base on Raxus Secundus, it was just a matter of giving her the time to get there.  
Nyto gaped at him, blinking rapidly, then hit his forehead with an open palm. "I am a total asshat! Why didn't I think about it earlier?! - he berated himself - Right. We'll need some ice, a tub... I'll find something to do the trick." he added with renewed determination, belting towards the door.

Left alone, Grievous turned towards the bed and lay a hand on the witch's forehead, trying to give her some solace. She groaned in pleasure at the contact. There were bright sides to being always at room temperature, the cyborg told himself.  
"Wake up, witch... - he tried to whisper - Follow my voice. I need you to wake up." he entreated.  
Her eyelids fluttered and her lips moved as if trying to form a reply, but she didn't resurface.  
Grievous cast a look around and found some sort of washrag and a bottle of water. He quickly wet the fabric with a splash of cool water and gently dabbed it over the witch's face. She muttered something, then her silver eyes opened.  
"Welcome back, witch... - he greeted softly - Keep your eyes open! Stay here, alright?" he added apprehensively, seeing her lids droop back again.  
Asajj nodded weakly. "What...?" she slurred.  
"You have a high fever. Nyto has gone to find something to make you feel better." he explained, placing the wet fabric on her forehead.  
"I need you to stay awake, witch. You have to fight, understood?" he added sternly.  
She nodded minutely. "It's hard." she muttered.  
"I know. I'm here to help you." Grievous said.  
He could see that she was fighting as hard as she could to obey, but the pull of unconsciousness was too strong. He had to do something to help her fight, but what? Maybe he should try to link up with her, like she had done with him at the factory and he had inadvertently almost done before the evacuation. If the link had allowed him to sleep after years of wakefulness, maybe it would help her stay awake.  
He mulled the thought in his head for a moment. It seemed as good an idea as any, in those circumstances. Now the only problem was creating the blasted link in the first place.  
So far he had either followed her lead, or acted out of instinct, following impulses that had very little to do with he do that again from stone-cold necessity?  
Only one way to know, he told himself, trying to recall the feeling of connectedness he had experienced with her, and to find a way to recapture it.

He distantly remembered sitting cross-legged on the flagstones in the penumbra of the temple, letting the presence of the gods and ancestors of his people swirl around him. He remembered letting go of the boundaries that separated him from the rest of the world, and feeling the spirits beside him, close enough to whisper warnings and encouragement.  
He remembered his spirit linking to another, so close that they almost became one being, remembered feeling what they felt, in perfect synchrony, forgetting what loneliness was like.  
Was that a memory or wishful thinking? Hard to tell.  
Then the flux of memories shifted to something closer, more clear and concrete.  
The witch, fighting at his side, painted in the blood of the fallen, then her again, straddling his lap, her warmth, her scent all over him, and then the touch of her mind against his, calling, beckoning. Letting go, and the fleeting moment when his consciousness had been all over the place, and then... her, only her.

Grievous took a deep breath and laid his hand against her brow again, soaking up her warmth. He tried to calm and clear everything else from his mind, until only her was left, the sound of her breaths, the rhythm of her beating heart, the feel of her skin against his fingers.  
"Hold on to me. You can do this, witch." he entreated, as he let his shields fall and aimed for her presence. It was easier than he would have thought, as if his spirit already knew the shape of hers and could immediately find its way. She accepted the contact eagerly, almost desperately, and he could feel whatever link they had forged before click back in place as if it had never been broken.  
A torrent of panic, confusion and loneliness washed over him for an instant, nearly driving him to his knees, but it soon ebbed down into something that felt almost like peace. He was starting to feel slightly wobbly and drowsy, but it was something he could control, for now.  
"Yes, just like that. Hang tight." Grievous whispered, feeling her anchor her mind to consciousness through their contact, dragging herself out of the delirium. Her silver eyes opened again, looking marginally more clear.  
Asajj smiled weakly. "How did you...?" she whispered with a hint of wonder.  
Grievous shrugged. "Does it matter?"  
"No." she mouthed, grasping his wrist with her left hand.

Nyto appeared at the edge of the curtained space wheezing and panting and looking quite dejected.  
"There are... no tubs big enough... and not enough ice." he announced.  
Grievous cursed loudly, wracking his brains for an alternative. Maybe the water from a refresher cubicle would be cold enough...  
"The cooling system tanks!" someone shouted from beyond the screen.  
"What?!" Grievous exclaimed, turning towards the source of the voice and moving the screen slightly to one side with his free hand.  
Tranh's pale face paled even further. "The air-con of the Lucrehulk. It is cooled with cold water. I know because I used to work as maintenance in the shipyards... - he explained timidly - The tanks are in the service area of the hangars." he added.  
"How cold is the water?" Nyto jumped in.  
Tranh shrugged. "Cold. Maybe 283 K, maybe a bit more. Cold enough to numb you." he replied.  
"It would work." Nyto declared, nodding.  
"Then let's do it." Grievous ordered.  
"Do what?" Asajj asked, perplexity swirling around her thoughts.  
Grievous turned back towards her. "Your fever is too high and there are no drugs which would be right for you on this ship." he explained, casting a quick glance to Nyto for confirmation. The Gunner nodded.  
"The only thing we can try is to lower it with cold water." Grievous continued.  
The witch grimaced. "No other way?" she asked anxiously.  
"No, sir." Nyto replied, shaking his head.  
Asajj let a small whimper escape her. Grievous could sense how paradoxically cold she was feeling, despite the fact that she was burning up, and could imagine that being dunked in frigid water would be one of the least appealing experiences she could think of at the moment.  
"Crap. - she cursed - I... Let's do it, then. Gods..." she acquiesced, grimacing and tossing her head on the pillow.  
"I know it's brutal, Commander, but I'll try to minimise your discomfort." Nyto promised.  
The witch nodded. "Come on. Do it quick, before I lose my nerve." she urged him.  
Nyto nodded again. "I'll grab some blankets and an emergency kit. Can you carry her, sir?" he asked to the General.

Grievous tried not to look too enthusiastic about the perspective of being able to hold her close again. He knew that she valued her independence and wouldn't like to be treated as the stereotypical damsel in distress.  
She wasn't. She was his equal, his rival, his match in almost everything. That was why he wanted her so much. For once in his relationship with her, he didn't want to prevaricate.  
"Can't you wheel her around in the gurney? She'd be more comfortable." he suggested.  
Nyto was rummaging in a cupboard, extracting some equipment and tossing it into a bag. "The corridors in the service areas are tight. The gurney wouldn't be able to turn." he replied.  
"Ah, well... If it is so..." Grievous commented, trying to sound neutral, but feeling secretly pleased.  
The witch let go of his wrist and slapped his forearm, giving him a sharp look. Either she had already realised that he liked holding her, or he had given himself away through the link.  
"Are you alright with me carrying you?" he asked, trying to repress his embarrassment.  
"Of course I am!" the witch replied heatedly.  
Confused by her reaction, Grievous tossed the wet fabric into one of the bio-waste bins and slid his arms under the witch's shoulders and knees, picking her up with all the blankets. She snuggled into a comfortable position with her head on his shoulder and an arm thrown around his neck for support and sighed contentedly. Gods, but it felt good...  
"You're no good at playing coy, you know? - she said in a whisper, so that only he could hear her - You like this. Admit it."  
Grievous hesitated, then nodded.  
"Good." she whispered, sounding and feeling satisfied.  
Even more confused, Grievous let the topic fall. If they really had to discuss this, it would be better to do it in a less public setting, and when she wasn't borderline delirious.  
There were more pressing issues, like trying to figure out a way to disentangle the antibiotic drip from the rest of the cables and things.  
He should have thought of it earlier, instead of behaving like a horny teenager. What now?

A small cry of pain came from beyond the screen. Grievous peered around, only to see that Tranh had somehow managed to unhook himself from the IV drip and was standing up, even if he looked a but pale and wobbly.  
"It's alright, sir. I'm coming to help." he declared firmly, staggering towards the drip stand.  
"Private Tranh, you should stay where you are..." Grievous protested, but the Gunner cut him short.  
"I still have got one good hand, and, before I have to leave the Batallion, I will do my duty to the end." he declared, tangling with the problem.  
"Leave the Batallion?" Grievous asked, perplexed, feeling that his perplexity was echoed by the witch.  
Before he could ask for clarifications, Nyto completed his quest for supplies and came back to the bed, burdened with a big bag and a bundle of blankets.  
"Are we ready?" he asked.  
"Ready!" Tranh replied victoriously, wheeling the drip stand towards the rest of the group.  
"Ready." Grievous acquiesced.  
"Let's go. Be ready to give us directions, brother." Nyto instructed.  
Tranh nodded, proud and determined, and the odd group left the infirmary at a fast walk.

Held tight but gently in the General's metal arms, Asajj Ventress idly tried to figure out where in the ship they were headed. What seemed an endless sequence of corridors passed in front of her eyes. It was quite boring and, weary as she felt, in other circumstances, she would have nodded off, but something was keeping her conscious.  
Grievous had managed to restore the link they had unwittingly created at the factory, and was using it to lend her some of his wakefulness, shoring her up against the onslaught of oblivion.  
He was nothing but resourceful and determined, she had to admit it. And, much to her chagrin, he was saving her again. Asajj made a mental note that she should try not to make an habit of it. It would definitely ruin her reputation.

When they arrived at their destination, Tranh looked like he was going to collapse. He let himself fall to the ground, breathing hard and cradling his maimed arm to his chest. Nyto dashed to his side, but the Gunner shoved him away with his good hand.  
"Don't worry about me. I'm alright. - he rasped - The tank...The controls to open it are on the left-hand side. There are steps inside, like a pool." he instructed.  
Nyto nodded. "Thanks, brother. " he said, thumping a fist to his chest in salute, then dashed to the tank and quickly managed to pry it open.  
Grievous carried her that way, stalking in silence. From her vantage point, Asajj could see the inside of the tank, a pool of gently rippling dark water.  
Nyto stuck a thermal probe into the water and read the output on his datapad. "282 K." he announced.  
"Cold as a mountain stream." Grievous commented.  
The medical officer nodded. "It should do the trick. Ever done it before, sir?"  
Grievous hesitated, then nodded. "And you? he asked.  
"Plenty of times. There aren't a lot of medical drugs available in the slums of Enac. - Nyto replied with a shrug - I'll time you."  
Grievous nodded again. "Let's do this then." he said.

He split his arms, and Asajj had to admit that, up close, it looked and sounded creepy. His sabers fell to the floor, then the blankets wrapped around her followed suit. Grievous reconnected his arms and climbed the steps to the edge of the tank, then took a deep breath and climbed down into it, sinking in the water to his knees.  
He cursed under his breath and, even in her weakened state, Asajj caught on to the wave dreadful anticipation that went through him. It was going to be cold, extremely cold.  
Asajj lost her nerve.  
"Oh, no! Please, no!" she pleaded, struggling frantically to break from his grasp.  
"I don't like it anymore than you do, witch, but there is no other way. - he replied, looking none too happy himself - Just hold on to me and breathe, you'll be fine." he added, almost gently.  
Asajj forced herself to stop struggling. She gritted her teeth and nodded, trusting that, since he liked the cold even less than she did, he wouldn't put her through this without a reason.  
"Try not to scream, alright?" he whispered and she nodded again, breathing faster and faster and tensing up in anticipation.

rievous took another step down into the tank and then another, and bent his knees, sitting in the frigid water up to his chest. Asajj just barely managed not to scream as the thermal shock hit her. She writhed and whimpered, scratching her fingernails against his duranium plate in an attempt to get a better hold of him as shivers wracked her body.  
"Hang in there, witch... It'll be better in a moment, you'll see." he said in a strangely tight voice, only to end up coughing pitifully at the end of the sentence.  
Asajj didn't even have the strength to reply, and her teeth were chattering so hard that she'd have bitten her tongue off if she tried anyway.  
She felt herself blacking out again and struggled to stay conscious. Through the link, bigger and bigger fragments of what he was feeling flashed into her mind.

_Cold... So cold... Dark as the night and darker still, sucking away all the brightness._   
_The water lapping against him and the weight of a shivering body in his arms..._   
_There had been a boy once... a boy with red-brown skin and dark curls like his own, eyes sunk in his little face and bright with fever, so weakened by his illness that he could hardly shiver._   
_He had stood in the ice-cold stream for the best part of a night, cradling him in his arms and hoping that the fever would break and that he'd be fine. He had talked to him, told him stories to keep him awake, told him how much he loved him, until the cold had weakened him so much that he could hardly talk, that he could hardly stand, and still it had taken two of his kin to drag him out of the water at dawn, and to break his hold on the cold, little corpse of his son._   
_And he had lain there on the bank of the stream as the sun rose, asking himself what was the point of his life, if he could never save those he loved..._

With an effort, Asajj hauled herself back to consciousness, feeling her eyes sting with sadness and irreparable loss. So much death... First his father, then the woman he loved, and then his son... Asajj was starting to realise that Grievous must have been a broken man long before before his body had been shattered in the spaceship crash.  
"N-not g-going a-anywhere..." she managed to stutter past the chattering of her teeth.  
Grievous blinked a few times and shook his head, as if to clear the images away from his mind, before he looked down at her with relief and a soft expression in his eyes.  
"See that you don't. - he replied - It's hard to find decent collaborators." he added after a brief pause to cough.  
Asajj managed a smile and tried to find the forces to form a snappy reply. "You suck at coy." she whispered. Grievous tried to laugh, but ended up coughing again. Asajj felt a lance of pain stab through her chest. It took her a moment to realise that it was coming from him.  
"Time!" Nyto yelled.  
"Thank the gods..." Grievous muttered, shakily getting back to his feet and clambering out of the tank. Out of the icy water, Asajj felt a bit of shared relief course through them both.

Grievous sank to the ground, coughing again, and set her down on the discarded blankets. Nyto dashed in with some more blankets and gently wrapped her in, then stuck a probe to her temple, reading out her temperature.  
"It's lowering!" the Gunner exclaimed.  
"Hooray!" Tranh exclaimed, from the other side of the room.  
Grievous instead was once again coughing pitifully, curled into an almost ridiculously tight ball against the side of the tank. With the fever retreating and wrapped in the blankets, Asajj was starting to feel warm again, but a terrible, oppressive chill was coming through the link.  
It was didnt' have almost any protection against the elements, and precious little ability to warm up quickly. He was half-frozen.  
"Nyto! Get some blankets! Help him!" she ordered, jerking her head towards the cyborg. The medical officer looked perplexed for a moment, then nodded and ran off to do as commanded.  
Grievous was feeling poorly enough that he didn't protest when Nyto wrapped him in a couple of blankets, just nodded and curled back up among fresh bouts of coughing.  
Asajj could still feel his pain and cold and knew that it was still not enough. Blankets could only help keep in the warmth radiating from a body, not generate heat themselves, and she imagined that Grievous would have very little heat to spare. And that cough... She needed to find a way to make it stop, before he managed to give himself an emphysema. Asajj cursed inwardly and tried to drag herself towards him.  
"Commander!? What..?!" Nyto gaped.  
"Help me, you two!" Asajj exclaimed, trying to push herself up on trembling arms.  
Both Nyto and Tranh ran to her side, and between the two of them, they managed to help her to her good foot and prop her up as she hopped the short distance to the General. Asajj let herself slide to the ground next to him and then underneath the blankets. His whole frame was shaken by useless little shivers.  
"Wi... Commander... - Grievous said, hastily correcting himself - What are you doing?" he protested, but wrapped an arm around her shoulders all the same.  
"I'm trying to warm you up... Unless you'd prefer one of the guys..." she provoked, wriggling to find a comfortable position, curled against his side with her bad leg extended.  
The two Gunners froze and started to panic."Neimoidians run cooler than near-humans, sir..." Nyto offered, terribly embarassed.  
Grievous made another of those ambiguous cough/laugh sounds and shifted closer to her, leaning into the heat of her body.  
Asajj couldn't help but smile at his reaction. She laid a hand on his chest and sent a quick pulse of Force-healing through her palm, hoping that it would find its target. She wasn't expert or powerful enough to fix him, if it was even possible, all that she wanted was to soothe the inflammation a bit, just so that he managed to stop coughing.  
It seemed to be working, because the faint pain she was sensing before disappeared, and Grievous relaxed even further with a shuddering sigh. Asajj could feel the cold start to dissipate and a warm, contented feeling pervade him.  
Damn, she could get used to curling up like that beside him.

"Do you need more blankets, sirs?" Nyto asked after a moment, still mildly embarrassed. Asajj was too busy feeling good to reply.  
"There will be no need. I'm already much better. - Grievous declared instead - I just underestimated the correction factor of the homeostatic system. It's getting back to normal, now." he added self-deprecatively.  
It had been because of her warmth, Asajj realised, because it had been all over him through the link.  
"I'm sorry..." she whispered.  
"It's alright, no lasting damage." he replied as softly as he could, squeezing her shoulder under the blankets in reassurance.  
"Do we need to do this again?" Asajj asked in a louder voice, turning slightly towards the two Neimoidians.  
"No, sir, your temperature has returned below trigger levels." Nyto replied with evident satisfaction.  
Both her and Grievous sighed in relief.  
"Let's get you to somewhere more comfortable, then, Commander." he proposed reluctantly.  
Asajj nodded, feeling tired and sleepy again, now that the adrenalin from the icy dunk was ebbing away. This time it was't the mind-numbing exhaustion of the fever, just relaxation, like after a hard fight. She almost wished they could stay curled up like that for a while. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was nice.

Grievous instead picked her up again as easily as the first time, and, after a few words had been traded between him and Nyto, he started back towards the infirmary. Asajj peacefully zoned out along the way, realising they had arrived only when he deposited her back on the infirmary bed.  
"You should be safe now. - he said, lightly brushing his fingers over her brow - I have to go back to the bridge."  
"I know. - she replied, shivering slightly and not just for the cold - Can you pass me a blanket, before you go?"  
Grievous nodded and cast a look around. "This is the only thing left which is not soaking wet. - he announced apologetically, grabbing his ruined cloak from the floor - You'll have to wait for Nyto to find some more blankets, I fear." he added, setting it down again on a nearby chair.  
Asajj hesitated only an instant. "That will do."  
Grievous turned towards her with a confused but hopeful expression."Are you sure?" he asked.  
Asajj nodded. "It's quite warm."  
Grievous sighed and draped the heavy garment over her, watching her with hooded eyes. It was not possessiveness, not just that. He was pleased to be sharing something of his with her. Whatever the reason for this, Asajj had the distinct impression that he valued her beyond the potential for another quick fuck in a storage room. It was unexpectedly touching.  
"Try to sleep, witch. We'll be home soon." he whispered.  
She nodded and lay her head on the flattish pillow, closing her eyes and almost purring in satisfaction. In that moment she could feel longing course through his being, and she knew could have pulled him onto the cot with her and he wouldn't have resisted. Her hand almost moved to grab his and guide him back to her, but she quickly repressed the impulse.  
She felt him leave, instead, felt the link snap as the physical distance between them increased. It left her oddly alone, almost bereft, and it irritated her immensely.  
She could bloody well do without him.  
She didn't need anyone. She was a warrior, a survivor. She was her own woman, and she needed a man about as much as a fish needed a speeder bike.  
It was the absolute truth.  
It didn't mean she could not want someone to be close to her, though.


	5. Fast Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original Star Wars characters. I do own the OCs, though. I do not make a £ from this.
> 
> Warning: bad language, some discriminatory remarks.
> 
> Flame all you want, I'm fireproof.

As he slammed a new power cartridge, one of the proper ones, in his semi-automatic blaster, the newly promoted Captain Garu Cato reflected, not for the first time in the last few days, that ending up on Naqdaa had possibly been the best thing that could have happened to his squadron.  
It was not as if he didn't feel sorry for his comrades who didn't make it. He was truly sorry about their passing, they had been like brothers and sisters to him, but even so, he couldn't stop thinking about the sheer magnitude of the opportunity the survivors had been presented with.  
They had been waiting for all their short lives to be able to show that, even though they were Unclaimed, they were worth something, apart from getting a rise out of Gunray with their mere presence.  
They had trained hard, harder than any other squadron, and finally all the effort, all the dedication had paid off.  
They had survived, where countless others, supposedly more worthy and all-round better than them, had died.  
They had fought under the two best commanders in the whole CIS army, they had fought hard, giving it everything they had, and they sure as hell had made an impression on their superiors.

And there they were, still at the base on Raxus, when the Fortressa had already been sent back to Cato Neimoidia.  
Back home they would have been housed in the shittiest quarters of the base and kept isolated, as if their Unclaimed-ness could contaminate the rest of the troops. Here on Raxus, instead, they had been quartered with the Raxian militia, and allowed unrestricted access to the common areas of the base, including the training grounds and the sports pitches.  
Only the previous night, they had been playing blaster-ball against a team of Raxian militiamen. They had been defeated, if only narrowly, but it had been a fantastic experience nonetheless. For the first time since the beginning of the war, they had truly felt part of something bigger than them, they had felt included in the life of the CIS Army.

On top of that, their provisional ranks had not been revoked yet. Garu imagined it would happen, sooner or later, but determined that he would make the best of the situation while it lasted. That included making sure that his comrades would be able to resupply with decent material, that Nyto would have access to proper medical supplies, and that his comrades didn't have to wait until late at night to train.  
When he had managed to book the shooting range for his squadron without anyone trying to bar him, he had felt like this was the kind of life they should have always lived.

Speaking of what, they still had half an hour to go, before they had to leave the floor to some guys from the Nimbus Commando for the last training slot before dinner.  
You should try to make the most of it, instead of reminiscing like an old man, he scolded himself.  
Sighing slightly, he gripped the stock of his blaster with both hands and planted his feet wide, sinking slightly into a standard firing stance.  
He sighted the target at the far end of the lane and took a deep breath, then squeezed the trigger several times before hitting the retrieval button. The target zipped towards him. Garu detached it from its support and examined it. Not bad, he told himself, fingering the cluster of holes around the left side of the target's supposed chest. He would never be as good as Auray, but he was pretty decent.

"Dreaming of becoming a sniper yourself?" Auray asked passing by his lane with a proper sniper rifle.  
"Are you going to train me?" he asked, teasingly.  
"I'm a hard taskmaster, Garu. Are you sure this is what you want?" Auray retorted with a wink and a smile.  
"Gods, no. I'll never be a good sniper. Can't concentrate that hard."  
"And I can't organise everything like you do. - she conceded - It's a pity you're not my trainee, though... I'd love to make you jump some hoops..." she added teasingly.  
"Ah... You must have been taking lessons from Commander Ventress..." Garu teased.  
Auray laughed and shook her head. "Maybe... But I could never pull off her outfits. I don't feel that confident in my femininity. - she replied - I'll stick to the uniform, if it's the same to you." she added.  
"You always look amazing, Auray." Garu said.  
"You're not too bad either, princeling." she replied, using his old nickname.  
"You've been talking to her a lot. I mean, to the Commander." Garu commented.  
Auray nodded. "She is one of the few female officers in the CIS. It's not like I have a huge choice of people to ask for guidance. - she said - And she's rather amazing, you have to admit that."  
Garu nodded. "If it had not been for her, we would have probably surrendered out of desperation." he admitted.  
"Well, our officers beat it. We were left behind to die. What were we supposed to do?" Auray asked, shaking her head.  
"Yeah, and in top of everything, it was our first time in combat. I was terrified, but she believed in us, and we started believing in ourselves." Garu continued.  
Auray frowned slightly at his words, setting the rifle down against the partition between his lane and the next.  
"I have the impression that it was more a matter of her not being prepared to let her plans go to waste, but in the end what matters is that now we know what we can do." she argued.  
Garu nodded again. "And now the Commander and the General know too. Even Dofine knows. We cannot be swept back under the carpet." he said.

"She wants to keep us." Auray revealed quietly.  
"They both want to keep us. Do you remember what the General said when we landed?" Garu asked. The sniper nodded.  
"If everything goes alright, we'll never be Unclaimed again." Garu concluded, feeling his heart pound at the mere thought.  
Auray smiled. "If you could choose, who would you rather claimed us?" she asked, elbowing him gently.  
"Can't we have both?" Garu retorted, making puppy eyes for a moment.  
Auray chuckled. "That would satisfy your bourgeois fantasy of a perfect family, won't it just? With the two of them playing Mommy and Daddy and us all in the role of kids..." she teased.  
Garu cracked up laughing. "How do you get these ideas, skyskin?" he asked, shaking his head.  
"I have eyes and my, how did you call that? Oh, yes, my "abnormal capacity for focusing on stuff". - she replied, mock-offended - I guess you didn't notice how those two interacted throughout the mission..."  
"Do you think?... I don't think it is so clear-cut. - Garu replied, mulling the idea over in his head - You were up top where Commander Ventress took off her skirt for the hand-to-hand fighting... The General looked like he was going to have a heart attack, but, hey, Van nearly had a faint at the sight, because all his blood had gone south, and even Nyto looked like he had a happy, and you know he is not much into girls. I don't thinks it actually means anything."

"Tush told me they were holding hands on the transport." Auray insisted.  
Garu shook his head. "We're gossiping like old fishmongers. - he commented, trying to change subject - Those two must have been working together for a while, and I would definitely hold Tush's hand even if I'm not remotely attracted to him. That's because he's my buddy. We fight together and stuff. We're like brothers."  
Auray gave him a skeptical look. "We'll see. - she conceded - What I know is that she is pretty miffed that he has not visited her at the infirmary yet."  
"As far as I know, he was called to Serenno the same night we landed here." Garu revealed in a whisper.  
"That's harsh." Auray commented.  
Garu shrugged. "The General doesn't actually have to sleep, they told me. Apparently, he hardly ever has downtime."  
"Poor bastard..." she deplored, shaking her head.  
Garu nodded and took a breath to comment, but his attention was captured by an odd group coming their way.

Nesh and Atinay were carrying an armful of gear, including a very vintage-looking rifle and a few Nar Shaddaa fire-bottles. Murko the technician followed them with an air of unease and slight alarm. It was enough to trigger an alarm in Garu's mind as well.  
"What the hell are you doing with this stuff?" he asked, barring their path.  
"Oh, it's just an experiment, nothing to worry about, Cap." Atinay replied.  
"That's exactly why I am worrying about it." Garu replied, crossing his arms over his chest.  
"We are just testing a theory. -Neshros explained - The General said you can increase the range of a fire-bottle with a slugthrower. We just want to figure out how it is done."  
Garu arched an eyebrow. "So that is a slugthrower?" he asked, waving a long-fingered hand towards the mechanical contraption.  
To his surprise, the reply came in Auray's voice. "It's a Czerka Outlands rifle. And unless they started making vintage models, it must be more than fifty years old. - she commented, almost with awe - Where did you find it?" she asked.  
Nesh shrugged. "We asked around the base. One of the IGBC officers at the canteen at lunchtime said they were selling some as brick-a-brac at the market just near the port and we bought it." he replied.  
"Well, we exchanged it for some Naqdaan fruit." Atinay corrected.  
"Can I see it?" Auray asked, extending a hand towards the rifle with an almost pleading expression.  
"Sure! Why not?" Atinay replied, pushing the rifle towards her.

Auray nodded in thanks and took it in her hands with an almost reverent expression, turning it this way and that to examine minute details of which none of the other Gunners had any idea.  
"It still looks perfect. All the mechanisms... and the bone inlays in the stock... - she declared after a moment - You two made a bargain. This is an amazing rifle. It is more than fifty years old, but if you keep it right, it will last a hundred more." she added, caressing the burnished metal of the barrel almost lovingly. Garu was starting to grow jealous of the rifle.  
"Wow! How do you know so many things about this stuff?" Atinay asked.  
"I learned to shoot with one of these when I was a child. - she replied, shrugging and looking down - It was my father's. He was a bounty hunter. Both him and my mum were mercs, actually. They died just before I got out of the village hatchery. They left me little, apart from his rifle, but I suppose it was enough. It kept me alive for years until I joined you guys." she continued quite sadly.  
"I suppose you can have this one, after we're done with it." Atinay offered, slightly alarmed by the sudden breaking of Auray's voice towards the end.  
"Really?!" she exclaimed, lifting her head and looking straight at him with gratitude and surprise.  
"Yeah, really. I mean, no probs, sis." Atinay replied, after a quick and silent consultation with Nesh.  
"Well, actually there is a significant chance that it will explode, if we do something wrong in the test." Murko chimed in.  
Auray's face fell almost comically. "What?!" she exclaimed, visibly agitated.  
"We're going to jury rig a cartridge with a holder for the bottles. - Murko explained - It is not 100% safe for either the equipment or us." he added, casting a dark look at his two partners in crime.  
"Then why did you choose an antique like this? Why not use a crappy rifle?" Auray protested, starting to breathe hard in agitation.  
"Well, it's not like we knew the diff! - Nesh retorted - I mean, this is supposed to be old crap no one actually wants anymore!"  
"You know what? It is not! These are useful weapons. - the sniper retorted, now quite irritated - With a sniper slugthrower rifle and a muffler you can put down a mark nearly a mile away and without making much noise."  
"You mean big things with looking glasses on top?" Murko asked.  
"Yes. - Auray confirmed - How do you know?"  
"The human who sold us this had one of those on display as well. It looked singularly unpractical." the technician replied.

Auray's reddish eyes widened dangerously. "Gods and demons! - she exclaimed - That's what emergency funds are for! Do you still have some bargaining fruit left over?" she asked the two artilliers and the tech.  
"Yes, but..." Atinay started.  
"No buts! Leave this stuff here and come with me. - she ordered - I'll find you a proper test subject or two. Hurry, before the market closes down for the day!"  
The trio turned towards Garu with nearly identical and rather scared looks.  
"What about our tests? We'll miss our time-slot!" Nesh asked.  
"Do as she says. I'll book another hour tomorrow. - Garu instructed, crossing his arms over his chest - I won't be the one to get between a woman and her rifle. And you?" he asked.  
The three promptly left their gear on the floor of the shooting range and trotted after Auray.

By dinnertime, the four of them had returned with a duffel bag full of slugthrower guns.  
"How did you get so many?" Tush asked. The gunman had been released from the infirmary in the morning and, apart from hobbling a bit, looked none the worse for the wear.  
"Murko repaired the merchant's droids." Nesh replied between, mouthfuls of Raxian vegetable mush. It lacked the spicy tang of a proper fermented salad, but it was pretty decent as human food went.  
"Yeah, all three of them." the technician grumbled, nursing a cup of caf between grease-stained hands.  
"And we gave him some more fruit." Atinay added glumly.  
"Oh, come on, guys, it was a pretty decent bargain. - Auray chimed in, momentarily looking up from the rifle she was polishing - This is good stuff. He must have gotten it from some disbanded mercenary group. It's all in reasonable state, even the oldest pieces."  
"And what are we supposed to do with them, now that we have so many?" Atinay asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  
Auray shrugged. "Go to the shooting range and learn to use them." she replied, unconcerned.  
"Eh, skyskin, but we already have our blasters." Garu objected, quirking an eyebrow in perplexity.  
"Oh. I didn't tell you that slugs cannot be deflected by lightsabers, did I?" Auray replied, blinking in confusion.  
"They what?" asked Tush, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.  
All eyes were pointed on the sniper with interest.

"Well, is you swipe them with a lightsaber, they melt a bit, but they do not deviate. They are too heavy." Auray explained, darkening in embarrassment.  
"Gods and demons!" Garu exclaimed, rolling the implications of this fact around in his mind.  
"So you got us a load of Jedi-droppers?" Van asked, looking excited.  
"Well, you still have to get the right occasion to shoot at them, but, in theory, yes. It would be easier to drop a Jedi with one of these than with a blaster." she replied, pointing at their new weapons.  
There was a moment of awed silence. Everyone was too dumbstruck even to eat, which, for a bunch of Neimoidians meant that things were serious indeed.  
"Well, I thought that if we are to be the personal command of either the General or Commander Ventress, we will need them. I mean, the Jedi try to hunt them down all the time..." Auray continued.  
"Will you marry me, skyskin?" Garu blurted out in a fit of enthusiasm and affection.  
"What?! - Auray exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers - No way in hell! You are my superior, now! I don't sleep with my superiors!" she continued, deeply embarrassed, and threw a greasy cloth at his head.  
Van and Leth burst out laughing, the gits, and soon the whole table was chortling and guffawing at the two of them.  
"Hey! Cut it! I mean it!" Garu ordered, feeling like he would burn up in embarrassment.  
"Gods, bro, you should have seen your face..." Van said among residual bursts of hilarity.  
Garu sighed. Now that he was an officer he should keep a tighter rein on his tongue.

"Hey bros, we got company." Khod whispered, jerking his head towards a tall, rail-thin Muun and a group of bulkier Iotrans who were approaching their table. The Muun was wearing the colours of the Collections and Security Division of the IGBC and his left sleeve was marked with the grades of a Lieutenant.  
"That's the guy who told us about the rifles." Nesh added.  
The Muun stopped a couple of paces away from their table and dipped his elongated head in a sketchy bow, while the Iotrans fanned out in a semi-circle behind him  
"I see you have found your antiques." the Muun drawled, waving an elongated hand towards the weapons on the table.  
"Yes, thanks for the tip, sir." Nesh replied politely, dipping into a sketchy bow himself.  
The Muun's colurless lips curled into a faint smile, then he turned towards Garu and his brothers with an intense and inquisitive regard.  
"And you must be the three abandoned princes. - he said, pale eyes sparkling with interest - Your resemblance to your father is quite remarkable." he commented.

Van jumped to his feet, all thoughts of food forgotten.  
"First of all, we ain't princes of shit. We were out of the hatchery and on the streets before that bastard became Viceroy. - he clarified aggressively - Second, how the fuck you know this, loan shark?" he added, slamming a hand on the table.  
The Iotrans visibly bristled and zeroed in on Van. The Muun, however, seemed unconcerned. He idly raised a hand to stop them and turned towards Garu.  
"Is your brother always so charming?" he asked lightly.  
"Only when someone tries to mess around with us. - Garu replied dryly - How did you learn about us?" he insisted.  
The Muun shrugged. "It is rather in the face, as they say... - he drawled, waving his hand around again and pointedly looking at Leth, who darkened in shame - And I am a security officer. It is my business to know things about people."  
He made a small pause, shifting his aqueous gaze from Leth's face to Van's and then to Garu's.  
"I have always wondered why he didn't claim you..." he said in a conversational tone, as if he was talking about the weather.  
"That's your problem, not mine." Garu retorted heatedly, standing up to face the Muun and crossing his arms over his admittedly thin chest.  
The Muun smiled a bit more widely, looking oddly pleased with himself. Garu had to hold tight on his self-control to prevent himself from punching him. He wouldn't let that upper-class prick get under his skin and wreck his chances of a better life in the CIS Army.  
"Don't you and your men have anywhere else to be, Lieutenant?" he asked, taking an aggressive step towards him.  
"Not really. - the Muun replied - You're the talk of the base. I wanted to check for myself how some good-for-nothing rejects had managed to get the favour of the Supreme Commander..." he added with a smirk.  
"That's enough!" Garu exclaimed, taking another step towards the Muun, until they were practically chest-to-chest. The Iotrans started crowding them, ready to interfere on behalf of their leader, but the Gunners were not the kind of Neimoidians to back down from a fight and rose from the table to support their Captain.  
"Is it, little prince? Or what? - the Muun asked, still looking quite calm - I wonder if you have the guts to make good of your threats. I know how you Neimoidians are."  
Garu smirked and glared daggers at him. "Oh, but we came out wrong, didn't we? - he retorted, almost sweetly - Who knows what we might or might not do?" he added, feeling like he might just do something really, really stupid, like headbutting the bastard in the nose.  
"We've all survived on the streets, loan shark. Do yo think you frighten us?" Van added, cracking his knuckles ominously.

The Muun locked stares with Garu, as if daring him to look away first, and the two groups faced off in the middle of the canteen. The tension grew for long instants. Garu knew that everyone in there was looking at them, probably asking themselves what it was all about and whether they should dive for cover.  
The pale gaze of the Muun didn't waver. Garu felt his heart beat faster and faster.  
He should go for the leader first, and knock him down as fast as he could, he reflected, tensing up to ready himself for action. Then he could use the chairs on the Iotrans, maybe even use the slugthrowers as clubs, since they were not loaded yet.  
It was going to happen and it was going to happen soon, now, any moment, he thought.  
Instead the Muun smiled with satisfaction and raised a hand again to still his men. "I think this is enough. Your people are even better than I expected. My compliments and my apologies, Captain Garu Cato." he said politely, bowing again.

Garu blinked at him in utter confusion.

Apologies?

Compliments?

"What is all of this about, Lieutenant?" he asked.  
"Well, comrade, we had to make sure that you were worth the effort." one of the Iotrans replied with a shrug.  
Garu turned towards him so fast that he nearly gave himself a whiplash.  
"So this was a test?! - he exclaimed, incensed and still confused - Who do you think you are to decide that we need testing?" he protested.  
"I am Lieutenant Tulah Tefnakt, of the C&S." the Muun replied with another sketchy bow.  
"And I am Captain Roghan Silash, also of the C&S. - the Iotran chimed in amiably - And these are some of our men." he added, pointing a thumb backwards to the rest of the group.  
"As for the reason for all of this, the explanation is a bit more complicated and will require some time. - Tulah continued - If you allow us to sit down with you, we will give you a full account of our actions." he offered.  
Garu glared at him a moment more, then quickly exchanged glances with his brothers and Auray.  
"Agreed." he said finally, turning and walking stiffly to the table. It would take him some time to burn off the adrenalin of the near-fight. The Muun's words had hit too close to home. He would have to watch out for him.

"Start explaining." he demanded with a hard stare and a hard tone as soon as they were all seated.  
"Right... - Tulah acceded - First of all we have to ask you something. Rumour has it that you are going to be under the personal command of General Grievous. Is it true?" he asked with an oddly hopeful expression.  
Garu hesitated a moment, asking himself if it would be a good idea to let this person into his confidence after his display of duplicity. Then, why not? It wasn't as if these bloody rent collectors could do anything about it.  
"It is not confirmed, but it is probable. He told us so himself. Now the decision is in Dooku's hands." he replied.  
"And if not under him, we'll be serving under Commander Asajj Ventress." Auray added.  
"The Bald Witch..." Roghan commented.  
"Hey, watch your mouth!" Auray exclaimed, immediately incensed.  
"Just saying... that's how everyone calls her." the Iotran said defensively.  
"Well, we don't." Garu cut in.  
"Alright, alright, no need to get angry." the Iotran conceded.  
Tulah had been watching the whole exchange with a benevolent and patient little smile, as if he had been watching children bickering over a toy. Garu breathed deeply to keep his cool.

"Is he planning to replace the Magna Guards with you?" Tulah asked, as soon as the argument had died out.  
Garu shook his head. "He said something about forming commando squads like the ARCs." he replied.  
There was a surge of hushed comments and agitation among the Iotrans, until Roghan barked some order and tense silence fell on the group again.  
"Capital!" Tulah exclaimed, clapping his hands and bouncing on his seat. He looked genuinely excited for the first time.  
"We want in this project, Captain Garu Cato. You have to help us in. - Roghan said heatedly, leaning forwards on his chair - Me, Tulah and our men would gladly gamble our entire fortunes for the chance of serving under the General again."  
Garu blinked in confusion and reeled back.  
"Again?!" Dyoc exclaimed, sounding equally perplexed.  
Leth had taken his datapad out, instead, and was frantically searching for something in the jumble of official data available on the Shadowfeed.  
"Are you saying that you were under his direct command before?" Tush asked, looking slightly dismayed.  
Both the Muun and the Itorian nodded smugly.  
"They are shitting us! - Leth exclaimed - There is no record of any organic unit, much less of an IGBC unit, serving under him since he took command on Hypori." he declared, pushing the pad nearly into the Muun's face.  
"We've not yet fought with him in this war, it is true. - Tulah conceded - We served under him before the war, when he worked for IGBC. He was the head of the C&S until a couple of years ago." he revealed, pushing the pad away and sliding a static holo print towards Garu.

The Gunner picked it up and stared at it wide-eyed.  
Against a backdrop of concrete-and-transparisteel buildings, three men holding guns towered over some bound captives. Two of three men were Tulah and Roghan. The third in the middle was tall, wiry and red-skinned, and even through the faded printout exuded an air of strength and command. A cream-and-brown cloak streamed from his shoulders and his face was covered by a white mask decorated with red markings on the cheeks and over the brows. Golden eyes stared at the viewer with burning intensity.  
Mask, cloak and eyes should have been little in the way of identification, but in this case it was enough.  
"Holy Gods!" Garu exclaimed, dropping the printout as if it had burned him.  
Van picked it up and examined it for a moment, before passing it on. A low murmur passed through the Gunners as the picture made its way around the table.

"It was taken about a month before the accident. - Roghan revealed - We had just foiled a clever heist at the Corellia branch of the IGBC. It was his last big operation before... well..." he trailed off.  
"What happened? I mean..." Garu stammered, still shaken by the picture.  
It was easy to think that Grievous had always been like that, that he had no past, and to see an image of him like that, healthy and whole, made the Gunner feel nearly sick at the thought of what must have befallen him.  
Tranh had screamed when he lost a hand. How much more pain must the General have felt?  
Roghan shook his head. "Well, he was a sort of king of some famine-ridden shithole at the bad end of the galaxy, and his people needed him for some war, or something like that. - he explained - He quit the job to go back to fight with some of his mates, but his spaceship exploded as they were a few miles from home. At the time we were told there were no survivors. They all left quite big families behind, I was told." he concluded.  
"Gods and demons, it must have been terrible!" Auray commented, wringing her hands.  
"Yeah. You can bet on it." Roghan assented, nodding gravely.  
"Rumour has it that it was the Republic. - Tulah added in a whisper - San Hill, the chairman, had been meeting with him a lot in the months before the accident and everyone knew the old bat was big on the whole independence thing. The 'Pubs must have thought it a good move to take Grievous out before he could declare for the CIS as well." he added.  
"But why would the Republic care about the head of a private security company?" Leth asked, shaking his head.  
"Well, he is the best general of the CIS, is he not? - Tulah retorted - Believe me, he was as good before, if not better."  
"But he was going home!" Auray exclaimed, anguished.  
Tulah shrugged. "The 'Pubs might have decided to stay on the safe side."  
"Well, I am happy that their plan backfired, the bastards! - she continued, slamming her hand on the table - How can you do something like that to a person?! And what about all the people that were with him on the ship?!"  
"If you knew that by killing one person, plus collateral damage, you could spare the life of millions, wouldn't you press the trigger?" Tulah retorted impassively.  
That quieted her, but she kept shaking her head and clenching her fists.  
Of the whole lot of them, she was the only one whose parents genuinely loved her and would have kept her, if they had not died in a mission. They had left her letters dripping with affection, written in case they didn't make it to her seventh life-day, and she loved them with an intensity that was not diminished by the fact that she had never actually met them. That left her somewhat sensitive to stories like that.

"So you said that he was presumed dead." Garu said, steering the conversation back on track.  
Tulah nodded. "As far as I know, even his family thinks so, or at least that's what his oldest wife said when I met her on Muunlinst. - he replied - I suppose it is to protect them. The Republic nearly killed him and actually blew up all the people who were on the ship with him, just on the odd chance that he might join the CIS. After all he's done to them now, what do you think they might do to his family, if they find out he has one?" he argued, and the reasoning sounded unpleasantly convincing to Garu.  
"What indeed... - he commented with a shudder - But if it's such a big secret, how is it that you know?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow in skepticism.  
"We got eyes, don't we? And he's been all over the Shadowfeed for a while. - Roghan retorted decisively - He's plenty different, but not so different, if you know what I mean."  
"Yeah, you can't work with a man for nearly ten years without getting used to his quirks and moods. - another, older Iotran chimed in - And he might be a half-clanker now, but it's still him, no doubt. I'd bet all my savings on it." he added with iron certainty.  
"We want to be in this new regiment, comrade. We need to. We'll paint ourselves green to look like Neimoidians if need be. - Roghan added - He is still our commander and we are still his men. This is where we belong." he declared with convinction.

Garu kept quiet for a moment, letting everything sink in. Roghan and the rest of the Iotrans looked at him expectantly, as if he could make or break their dreams.  
"Look, people, we cannot do much for you. - he said, raising his hands in conciliation - I mean, you go and ask him, when he's back. The most we can do is ask with you."  
"Would you be alright with it?" Tulah asked.  
Garu shrugged. "We haven't got enough people to make a new regiment all by ourselves. He's going to have to open the recruitment regardless. - he argued - I suppose he'll be happy to have you back." he added with a weak smile.  
"And you are veterans, which always helps. - Tush added, scratching his chin pensively - We're all a bit green."  
Tulah burst into laughter. "Don't you say..." he teased.  
"Ah, that's not what I meant!" Tush protested, growing darker in embarrassment, so that the pale scar on his face stood out more in contrast.  
"Don't mind Tulah, comrade, he's like that with everyone. - Roghan advised - I've tried to break him out of the habit..."  
"And he means literally break him..." another Iotran chimed in, laughing.  
"Well, it didn't work anyway." Roghan concluded.  
"Don't say so, comrade. At least I got much better at hand-to-hand combat." Tulah said with his usual small smile.  
"So we are agreed? - the Muun then asked, turning towards Garu - Will you support our application to enlist in your new unit?"  
Garu turned towards his men, his brothers and sisters. Tush nodded. Auray nodded. Van and Leth, still piqued, shrugged. One by one, all gave their assent or signalled their indifference.  
"Agreed." Garu said finally. The C&S people sighed collectively in relief.  
"But if I hear anyone commenting about Gunray or about the fact that we are Unclaimed, I'll break their faces, understood?" Van threatened, waving a knobbly fist in the air.  
"He'll do it, no mistakes. He was into prize-fighting quite a bit as a kid." Garu warned.  
"Alright, alright. We won't talk about it no more." Roghan conceded.  
Van nodded, satisfied if still a bit irritated.  
"I suggest we seal the deal with a handshake." Tulah proposed, offering his pale hand to Garu.  
The Gunner grabbed it and shook it vigorously, then shook Roghan's, while the Muun shook Auray's, then Van's.

"It's done then. Thank you, comrades. It means a lot to us." Tulah said, after the handshake-fest had finished.  
"It's alright. Don't mention it. We haven't done anything yet." Garu said feeling slightly self-conscious.  
"I think we should commemorate our deal. - Roghan proposed - I know there is a very nice club next to the base. We should go and have a blast!"  
he exclaimed.  
"Yeah, it would be nice... but we're all out of funds at the moment. We invested them all in equipment." Garu said, gesturing towards the slugthrowers and feeling his face burn in shame.  
"Ah, don't worry, grub. - Roghan reassured, slapping him on the back - It's on us. What's the point of getting an obscenely high salary, if you don't spend it on booze and parties?" he laughed.  
Garu smiled wanly, slightly taken aback by the boisterous officer.  
"That's mighty nice of you!" Van exclaimed instead, suddenly reconciled to the existence of the Iotran captain.  
Roghan laughed again. "Let's get ourselves a fresh start, comrades! Come, let's enjoy life while it lasts!" he proposed, rising from the chair.  
His proposal was saluted by a communal cheer from both groups. Garu felt his head spin from how fast the situation had evolved, but decided that it would be pointless to row against the flow.  
He briefly caught Tulah's eye among the confusion. The Muun sighed and rolled his eyes, spreading his arms in impotence as if to say that it was out of his hands now.  
Garu couldn't help but smile, and Tulah smiled in return.  
It would be an interesting evening.


	6. Returning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original Star Wars characters. I do own the OCs, though. I do not make a £ from this.
> 
> Warning: bad language and mentions of sex and child abandonment/abuse.

It was already quite late at night when a Belbullab fighter requested permission to land at the military spaceport on Raxus Secundus.  
The runway personnel motioned it towards a berth close to the entrance of the base proper, asking themselves who the pilot might be. Belbullabs were not that common around Raxus, but they were insanely good ships and that one even looked like a custom job, designed for speed and power.  
"That dude must know how to fly. - one of the runway technicians commented to his colleague, who was new to the job - See how he's keeping it in line smoothly? Oh, and he's hovering before landing! That's sweet!" he added enthusiastically.

The fighter stopped in the berth and the engines had barely shut down when the cockpit opened and a bulky silhouette jumped to the floor.  
"It's the General!" the more experienced technician whispered, backpedaling in fear and alarm.  
The rookie stared in awe for a moment at the strange, droid-like figure as he retrieved something from the cockpit and shut the compartment closed.  
He was fascinated. The General didn't look like a person, not much, but if power could take a material shape, it wouldn't be much different from him.  
"Are you going to need it again soon, sir? - he asked, unthinking, as the cyborg was turning to leave - Do you want me to wash it?"  
The General turned back towards him, golden eyes blazing and slightly shining in the low light.  
The rookie felt a shiver run through him and heard his older colleague curse under his breath. Surely the General couldn't be mad at him for just speaking to him, or could he?  
"Give it a scrub, kid, but woe to you if I find a single scratch. Understood?" the General asked. His voice was deep and rough and lifelike enough for the rookie to notice that it was synthetic.  
"Yessir! - the boy replied, jumping to attention - I'll be as prudent as a maiden on her wedding night!"  
The General stared at him with an odd expression for a moment, then made a strange sound, something that sounded like a cross between a cough and a bout of laughter.  
"See that you do, kid. See that you do..." he said and stalked away, shaking his head andmuttering something under his breath.  
Rookie watched him disappear into the base, feeling oddly buoyant and proud of himself.

His older colleague cuffed him soundly around the back of the head as soon as the cyborg was out of sight and earshot.  
"Hey! What was that for?!" Rookie protested, rubbing his stinging neck.  
"Are you fucking crazy?! - the older man exclaimed - That was General Grievous!"  
"Yeah, I had that figured out already, than you very much. - Rookie retorted sarcastically - There are not many seven-feet-tall cyborgs running around this place."  
The older man shook his head. "Whatever came into your mind to try and chat him up?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  
Rookie shrugged. "Hey! What's the matter?! We chat up all pilots! They land and we go like: how was the flight, can we help, need something? It's part of the service. " he retorted.  
"Not with him." the older man insisted.  
"And why?" Rookie asked, frowning in confusion.  
"Because... because he is the General! Don't you see the kriffing difference?!" the older man replied, evidently uncomfortable.  
Rookie shook his head. "You're scared of him." he realised.  
"You are too. And if you aren't you should be. That thing... it is a monster." the older man argued defensively.  
"I am scared. And _he_ is weird. And scary. - Rookie admitted - But _he_ is the guy who is out there winning the war for us. The least I can do is be nice with _him_ when _he_ lands here." he continued, stressing the pronouns and crossing his arms on his chest. He had never realised that the guy who had been partnered with him was a speciesist. Cyborgs were not actually a species, but whatever.

"I will wash that fighter until it shines. And if you don't like this, you can shove your opinion up your jumper, alright?" Rookie concluded, walking stiffly towards the service area in a quest for a bucket, some soap and a hose.  
"Knock yourself out, bleedingheart. You'll wish you had listened to me when that thing decides to turn upon you." the older man called out as he walked away to the cafeteria.  
Rookie flipped him the bird and let him go without even turning back.  
"Speciesist dickhead..." he muttered under his breath.  
He picked up his gear, including the softest washcloths he could find in the storeroom, and carried it to the Belbullab.  
As he started to work the soapy water to a lather over the nose of the craft with gentle, even movements, Rookie replayed the moments just past.  
He would give the General a top-notch service, he vowed, not because he might break him in two if he didn't (which was also true), but because that's what he was payed to do, because that was what he did for everyone else. He'll show those dickheads how a true professional worked.

Despite the late hour, Asajj Ventress wasn't feeling even a bit sleepy.  
After nearly a week of forced inactivity, her leg was nearly completely healed and she was feeling bored and restless.  
At first, she had been determined to take advantage of the respite given to her by the enforced bed rest. She had put on the most comfy clothes among the few items she had stashed on Raxus for emergencies, an old hoody a couple of sizes too big for her and a pair of hotpants, and had downloaded quite a few of the books she had been wanting to read in the previous months, but had never managed to.  
At the moment, she was sitting cross-legged on the bed with her datapad and a cup of sweetish herbal infusion, and was trying read what was supposed to be the best historical novel of the year, a blend of drama and adventure set against the backdrop of the Sith Wars, complete with elaborate and slightly improbable fights and equally acrobatic sex scenes. It was enjoyable, even if a bit preposterous here and there, but her mind refused to focus on the reading.  
Too many thoughts were vying for attention in her mind, distracting her.

First of all there were the Gunners, which at the moment had defaulted to her command. They seemed to be doing well for themselves at the base, according to what she had heard from Garu and Auray. They trained, they socialised with the other troops, and their officers dropped in for regular reports.  
Auray, the lead sniper, dropped in more frequently than most, seeking advice and female solidarity, and Asajj had to admit that she had taken a liking to the girl.  
It was nice to be able to talk about what it meant to be a woman and a soldier in the CIS, about the people who didn't take you as seriously as your male colleagues, about the perverts who tried to cop a feel in the queue at the canteen, that sort of stuff.  
Asajj admittedly had to swallow less of that crap because she was a Commander and a Dark Acolyte, but she knew that her sexuality or lack thereof was a common topic of discussion, and Grievous had recently confirmed that some people thought that she had got her commission lying on her back.  
There was not much she and Auray could do, apart from standing strong, and strategically breaking some noses and assorted bones to remind the pigs that they were not to be trifled with.  
Auray was a talented girl, a fighter, and Asajj actually saw a lot of herself in her, but she was not Forceful. She liked the girl even more for that, because that meant that they would never be rivals, that there was no risk that one day Auray would try to take her out to pave her own career. Asajj found that she enjoyed the fact that she could actually relax around her and just talk, and sometimes joke, and even giggle like a teenager on occasions.

Maybe she shouldn't, but she liked this new development almost as much as _that_ other one.  
Speaking of what, that crazy lump of metal had disappeared for the entire week without even dropping her a message on the Shadowfeed.  
So much for his social ability, she sighed. Eventually, he'd get in touch, she told herself.  
In the meantime, she'd take command of the Gunners and start training them. First come, first served, as they say.  
In fact, she was glad he had not shown up yet. She didn't want to meet him again from a position of disadvantage.  
He'd probably be back in tip-top shape by now, and she was still slightly sore, shabbily dressed and hooked up to an antibiotic drip, and on top of everything, her blasted hair had started to grow out again, and she hadn't managed to shave it back into oblivion yet. It was just a layer of brownish fuzz a few millimeters long, but she hated it.  
It made her look, soft. It made her look like an idiot.

No, she would be at her best, next time, back to full health, head freshly shaven and dressed to her nines, and she'd stand up to him on an equal footing, or near enough.  
And then she'd make him admit that he needed her, she'd make him beg and come for her.  
She'd hear him scream for her and she'd know she _owned_ him. Until she could actually kick his ass on the training grounds, she'd take her victories where she could.

That was a nice perspective on the future, she thought with satisfaction, feeling her pulse quicken and her cheeks colour. If she closed her eyes she could still see him lying beneath her and looking lost and gone with pleasure. She had made him look like that, and it had made her feel _good_. So good that she could barely wait to have another go at him.  
How messed up was her life that fantasizing about having sex with a guy who didn't even have any man-bits was one of the highlights of her evening?

Someone knocked at the door.  
By the hour, Asajj judged that it must be Auray. She had taken the habit of visiting her comrades and her after whatever post-dinner social activity the Gunners had managed to arrange.  
"Come in!" she called out, trying to blot her previous thoughts out of her mind and calm down.  
It was then that she remembered that Auray had called in earlier, saying that she and the rest of the Gunners would be going to some club with some people from the IGBC.  
"Who could it be, then?" she asked herself.

The door opened and, just because if things can go wrong, they will, standing in the doorway was none other than Grievous, looking his usual ominous self with a new cloak and a longish bundle clutched in one hand.  
Asajj stared at him in confusion and incredulity for an instant, thinking furiously whether she should brave the situation with nonchalance, try to hide, or shove him out of the room with a Force-push.  
He just stood there looking at her in silence, taking in every detail of her bedraggled state, and her embarrassment grew with every passing second. The last option was winning her lightning-quick internal debate when he finally spoke.  
"I... I suppose this is a bad moment. - he said, looking tense and embarrassed as well - I'll come back tomorrow." he added, rather wistfully and started to back away.  
As he turned, his cloak shifted and she saw that the tarp he had used as an improvised cover for the damage to his chest was still in place. Now that she was looking for the signs, she saw that he was still scratched all over and spattered with all sorts of fluids like he had been after the battle. That made her feel better about her own condition and generally more magnanimous.  
"No, wait! - she called out - I wasn't doing anything vital. I wouldn't mind a quick chat, if you're not too tired." she added quickly and nonchalantly.  
She was bored, and a bit of verbal sparring with her favourite rival seemed like a good plan.  
He stopped mid-turn and turned back towards her. "Ah... Alright." he said, rather hesitantly, and softly clanked back into the room.  
Asajj noticed that he was hobbling slightly, even if he had not after the battle.

"What happened to your leg?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
"Dooku. - Grievous spat - He was not pleased about the whole Naqdaa incident."  
"So he thrashed you..." she concluded.  
Grievous shot her a dark look then nodded. "Someone should tell him the difference between training and punishment." he growled.  
"To a Sith, the difference is labile."she retorted.  
Grievous huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Did he also forbid the Geonosians to fix you?" she asked again.  
Grievous shook his head. "They took two days to figure out how to fix this, before they realised they didn't have the required parts. - he explained, gesturing angrily - They'll have to manufacture them from the blueprints. It'll take a while." he concluded with a sigh.  
"Well, at least you'll get downtime." Asajj said cheerfully.  
"Hardly. I have too many things to do. There are the Gunners to train, and they finally assigned me a flagship." he said, getting more cheerful towards the end.  
"Really?" she asked politely. He had been ship-hopping for a while, since the Jedi blew up the Malevolence, and she agreed that it was rather undignified for the Supreme Commander.  
Grievous nodded. "A Neimoidian cruiser/destroyer. She is a beauty, you'll see her when she lands here in a couple of days." he explained.  
Asajj nodded politely. She knew her starfighters, but anything bigger than a shuttle was more or less the same to her, as long as it worked and got her where she wanted to go.  
"And why are you not on it for the maiden voyage?" she asked.  
Grievous shrugged. "The official maiden voyage will start from here. It's all propaganda for the Senate of the Confederacy." he explained dejectedly, setting the parcel down on the bedside trolley and starting to pace back and forth in front of the bed.  
"Well, General, we need to keep the morale of the civilians up, don't we?" Asajj teased.  
"Their morale would be equally boosted if I killed a few more republicans. - he retorted grumpily - All this socialising nonsense infuriates me."  
"And you can't even help yourself to the free food..." she commented.  
Grievous shot her a dark look and continued to pace.

"Well, it's kind of openly recognised. Everyone goes to those events mainly for the free food and drinks." Asajj continued cheerfully, glad that she had found something to tease him about.  
Grievous sighed. "Yes, I wish I could get drunk myself. The ordeal would be easier to bear." he confessed.  
"Oh, come on, don't be so negative. You'd be the star of the event." Asajj said.  
"It is a role I'd rather leave to someone else." he retorted, starting to sound angry.  
"But you get to be rude and scary with a lot of important people." she insisted, judging that it was still safe to do so.  
Grievous shook his head. "Meagre satisfaction." he replied. He kept on pacing and it was really irritating her.

"Oh, would you please sit down! You're getting on my nerves!" she exclaimed.  
Grievous halted suddenly and blinked a few times. "Excuse me?" he asked.  
"Sit down. Just do it. - she repeated forcefully, pointing to the chair left in the room for visitors - Do you realise how irritating it is to talk to someone who keeps in going back and forth like that?"  
Grievous eyed the chair sceptically. "That won't hold me." he protested.  
"Then sit here on the bed. - she offered - Or anywhere. As long as you stay still." she quickly added, realising that she had just made an incautious opening move.  
Grievous looked at her questioningly. "Are you certain it is a good idea?" he asked.  
They were both shielding hard, but Asajj had the impression that his question didn't have much to do with the structural stability of the furniture.  
Asajj decided to ignore the subtext, for the moment, and nodded.  
"It seems quite sturdy." she declared.  
Grievous sighed again and took an oddly hesitant step towards the bed, then lifted his cloak out of the way and gingerly sat down at the far end. The bed creaked a bit, but held.  
Now they were sitting just an arm-length apart, and Asajj could tell that it was making him tense.  
He was facing away from her and staring at the ground as if it was very interesting, only to cast her quick, intense glances out of the corner of his eye. Point for her for making him even more fidgety and awkward.

"Do you know what is the problem with those events? I can't stand all that people staring at me, or pretending I'm not even there..." he said very quietly after a long pause.  
"They are a bunch of blinkered idiots. The first time I went to a party with Dooku, a Senator convinced herself that I was some sort of paid escort." Asajj revealed, trying to cheer him up.  
Grievous turned towards her with an amused glint in his eyes.  
He caught a breath to speak, but she cut him off before he could utter a single word.  
"If you are thinking about commenting on my clothes, think again." she warned.  
"Of course not, gods forbid! - he replied, still playfully - I was just thinking that maybe she was attracted to you and wanted a private performance..." he added with what amounted to a smirk.  
Asajj struggled to find a witty retort and his nearly-smile widened. She glared at him. Now they were even again.  
"Well, I have bedded a few women in my life, but she was not my type." she finally said with as much nonchalance as she could muster.  
His eyes went so wide that Asajj thought she could see some white around the gold. All in all, he looked like his jaw was going to fall off in astonishment, except for the fact that he didn't have one, because it must have been blasted off in the accident, and that wasn't very fun at all. At any rate, she had scored a tie-breaker with that riposte.

"Was... was she not pretty enough for you?" he asked after a moment, weakly trying to get back in the game.  
Asajj shrugged. "She was boring. I like challenges." she said coolly, pleased that she had managed to keep the advantage.  
"So do I." he agreed, briefly making eye contact with her and nodding almost imperceptibly to acknowledge her victory in this round.  
Asajj allowed herself to bask in that small victory for a moment.

"So when is the event supposed to be?" she asked, steering the conversation back on the original track.  
"A couple of weeks. Maybe a month. - he replied with a shrug - She needs to be staffed and crewed, and I am having her modified by the shipyards here on Raxus."  
"What for?" she inquired.  
"I'll have them take out some of the thrusters and add some more hangar space. - he explained - She was never going to win any races anyway, and I'd rather have local numerical superiority any day." he added.  
Asajj nodded. "Sounds sensible. Are you having them add some more punch as well?" she asked.  
"Of course I am!" he retorted with his customary arrogance.  
"How silly of me to ask... - she said in a deadpan tone - Does your new toy have a name already?"  
"Invisible Hand." Grievous replied with a minute shake of his head.  
"That's positively tame for you! - Asajj teased, quirking an eyebrow - Judging from your other ships, I would have thought you'd go for Bonebreaker, or Smasher, or I-kriffing-hate-you-all..."  
"Haha. Very funny. - he commented darkly - I didn't get to name her. She came with that name already. She was supposed to be Gunray's." he revealed.

"What?!" Asajj exclaimed. It seemed like now it was her turn to look flabbergasted. "You stole Gunray's ship?" she asked.  
"I didn't steal it. I requisitioned it with Dooku's explicit permission." he clarified.  
"Yes, I am sure that will make a lot of difference to Gunray." she commented.  
"That's the beauty of it. - he admitted cheerfully - The Federation was going to launch three sister ships and Dooku told me to pick one for my flagship. I just picked the one with the biggest engines and the least silly name." he explained.  
"Which coincidentally happened to be the one Gunray would have picked for himself." Asajj added.  
"Sometimes you just get that lucky..." he said with a small laugh.  
"And Gunray coincidentally happens to be an arrogant bastard who cannot recognise talent in any shape or form. Not even in his children..." Asajj continued.  
"His children?" Grievous repeated.  
"Yes. The three Catos, Garu, Van and Leth. They are his. - she explained - It's rather obvious, I think. Leth looks like his younger clone."  
"I had noticed. - Grievous replied dryly - I just thought they were, I don't know... illegitimate, or the result of a drunken night in town. I thought that he just didn't know about them."  
"Oh yes, a woman would need to be quite drunk to... Ah, I don't even want to think about it! - Asajj commented, grimacing - And no. They are legitimate, from his first wife. Well, they were legitimate, until he disclaimed them."  
"He did what?!" Grievous exclaimed tensing up as if ready to spring.  
"He disclaimed them. - Asajj repeated - He forsook legal custody and all rights on them. It basically means that he abandoned them." she explained.  
Grievous shook his head and looked away from her. "How can anyone do something like that? How?" he growled, clenching his fists and nearly trembling in rage.

And how did that happen, Asajj asked herself. And how could that not happen, she told herself a moment later, remembering the memory they had shared on the Fortressa. A man who loved his son so deeply could never understand the Neimoidians' attitude to parenting. Even she struggled, and she was quite advanced on the path of the Dark Side.  
"I don't know. - she admitted - Auray told me that they leave their kids until they turn seven in some sort of schools where the weak are weeded out. Apparently Garu and his siblings found a way to cheat the system and leave as few of their batch behind as they could manage." she explained calmly. The rational exposition seemed to snap Grievous out of his fit of fury, or at least give him a bit of clarity.  
"And Gunray didn't like it." he interjected.  
"No, he didn't. - she confirmed - Neimoidians value individualism and ruthlessness above all. They would make good Sith, if they weren't so coward." she added dispassionately.  
"Gods... I would never... I could never... - Grievous whispered, shaking his head again - Could you do something like that to your own flesh and blood?" he asked, turning back towards her with an almost pleading expression.

Asajj hesitated for a moment. Her first instinctive reaction was to say yes, of course, and why not? She was a Sith, or nearly so, and she had done worse than that to a lot of people. However she paused for a moment to imagine that she had a child of her own, something small and helpless that relied only on her.  
She had never wanted children, but she could clearly imagine a tiny, white-skinned girl with a dusting of brown hair on her head, could almost feel her light weight in her arms and smell her scent.  
She tried to imagine abandoning her, leaving her on a street and walking away. She _could_ imagine it, but at the same time she remembered the pain she had felt when her adoptive parents and then her master died, the hopelessness and the loneliness.  
How could she inflict that kind of pain on purpose on someone who loved her and had never done anything wrong to her?

"No... No I could not." she admitted in a whisper.  
"Thank the gods... - Grievous whispered with evident relief - That would be... That is where I draw the line." he added more decisively  
"At harming children? Really? - she teased, slightly put off by his bout of righteousness - You might want to remember that, next time you command an orbital bombardment..."  
"At harming your own. - he retorted, sitting up straighter and glaring at her - Your children, your soldier, your people. Anyone who is under your charge. Everyone who trusts you and depends from you." he added, holding her gaze.  
"Yeah, tell that to the B1s you regularly destroy..." she attacked, crossing her arms below her breasts and quirking an eyebrow in disbelief.  
"Droids have no souls. They are programmed to obey to certain people. They cannot give you their loyalty and their trust. - he replied angrily, eyes narrowed to thin golden slits- They are objects, not people, and I don't owe them more loyalty than I would give a washing machine."  
"I don't break my washing machine when I'm pissed off." Asajj retorted.  
"Your washing machine cannot fuck up your campaign plans with its incompetence. - he counterattacked - Even if it does shrink your clothes something terrible..." he added with a sort-of grin.  
Without even thinking, Asajj Force-pushed him off the edge of the bed, not very hard, but still hard enough to send him sprawling to the floor with a metallic clang.  
"That was a very bad idea..." she told herself a moment later, imagining that in a moment he would spring back up, as pissed off as a rampaging rancor, however the moment passed and nothing happened.

Asajj crawled to the end of the bed and cautiously peered down.  
Grievous was sitting on the floor with his eyes tightly closed and his hands clenched into fists but still trembling slightly. He was taking deep, deliberate breaths, trying to calm himself down, and Asajj could almost feel the heat of his anger slowly cool down. She watched him struggle with himself in worried fascination, wondering why he was making the effort.  
She didn't really know how long she had been watching him before he opened his eyes and fixated his still angry gaze on her.  
"Are you still very mad?" she asked.  
Grievous took another deep breath. "I'm trying not to. - he replied in a strained, clipped tone - I deliberately provoked you, and you didn't really harm me." he said as if trying to convince himself.  
"And I don't harm my own." he added with another deep breath.  
"I am not yours." Asajj retorted automatically, not thinking about the consequences.  
Grievous rose to his knees and grabbed the edge of the bed, so that his masked face was very close to hers. "You are. - he growled - We fight together, side by side on the battlefield."  
Asajj didn't know if it pleased her or not that he had not mentioned that other aspect of their relationship. "And does that make me yours?" she asked quietly.  
"Yes." he replied defiantly.  
The tension that had always permeated all their encounters was back in full force, making the air buzz around them. Once they had had just one way of dispersing it, violence, but now Asajj understood that situations like these could be just as easily tipped towards a much more pleasurable outcome.

"I guess that makes you mine as well..." she whispered, laying a hand on the side of his mask and closing the distance between them, so that her forehead rested against his.  
He let out a shuddering sigh and his whole frame trembled minutely. Asajj could feel his anger fade into the background as quickly as it had built up.  
"Yes..." he whispered, without any hesitation, and, even without any mind-tricks, she could feel that he craved that connection, that he wanted, no, _needed_ to mean something to her.  
Asajj sighed as well, closing her eyes and feeling a strange sort of warmth flood her. Almost without thinking, she briefly rubbed her cheek against his mask in what had already become their shorthand for a kiss. She allowed herself to bask in that feeling for another moment before she pulled away from him and sat back on the bed.  
Grievous looked at her with slightly unfocused eyes for a moment, then blinked and shook his head and was back to his normal, hyperfocused self.

"So the Gunners are also part of your own, now?" Asajj asked, patting the bed to invite him to sit down again.  
"Part of our own, witch. - Grievous replied eagerly accepting the invitation - I won't have time to look after their training as they would need, and you're the best infiltrator in the CIS. Why don't we split their command?" he proposed.  
"Are you kidding me?" she asked.  
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Grievous retorted archly.  
"Why would you do something like this?" she insisted.  
"Because you are a good warrior and they like you. I think it's reason enough, but if you don't want them..." he replied with a shrug.  
Asajj looked at him wordlessly for an instant. So many thoughts piled up in her head that she couldn't bring herself to verbalise any.  
"Of course I want them! - she managed to exclaim - But... Does Dooku know about this? Is he alright with this?" she added anxiously.  
Grievous nodded. "I managed to convince him that it would help the propaganda to have more organic troops engaged on the main fronts. - he explained - I am convinced he thinks it will fail, but he gave me the go-ahead."  
"And what about my role? Is he OK with that?" Asajj asked again.  
"He insisted that you should participate in the project. - Grievous confirmed - I even pretended to protest but he was adamant." he added with an almost-smirk.  
Asajj glared at him for a moment. She understood why he had protested, but part of her was irritated nonetheless.  
"And how do we proceed then?" she asked.  
"First you get yourself out of here. - Grievous replied - Do you have an office here at the base?"  
Asajj shook her head. "I barely have a decent room."  
"Then I'll find one. - he said - We have plans to make. And we still have to write a joint report about the Naqdaa debacle. Dofine has sent me the contact of his lawyer. We'll make the deserters pay." he added heatedly, clenching a fist.  
"That sounds like a plan. - Asajj agreed - I should be discharged by tomorrow midday."  
"Excellent. Shall we meet after lunch?" Grievous proposed.  
"Let's make it around four in the afternoon. - Asajj replied - I need to freshen up a bit." she added gesturing towards her head.  
"Ah. About that..." he began.  
"You're not allowed to comment." Asajj cut in.  
Grievous raised his hands in mock-surrender. "I'm not going to say a word." he declared, and suddenly, before she could react, he had placed a hand on her head and was stroking the blasted fluff.

Asajj froze, repressing the impulse to throw him into the wall. His touch was surprisingly light and it sent a pleasant tingle down her spine, but obviously, as soon as she relaxed, he took his hand away.  
"You have been pushing your luck, clanker boy." she hissed, doubly irritated.  
"I know, but sometimes I can't help it. - he admitted - I had been thinking about doing that since I set foot in the room."  
"Yes because it is so funny, eh?" she asked.  
Grievous shook his head. "It's not funny. It was... unexpected. - he tried to explain - I wanted to know how it felt... how you felt when you are like this."  
"What about asking?" she hissed.  
"You would probably have said no just to spite me. And you didn't dislike it." he retorted.  
"Maybe, but that's not how it works." Asajj declared, crossing her arms below her breasts.  
"And how does it work?" he asked, deliberately making eye contact.  
"You don't assume. You ask." she said sternly.

Grievous nodded. "May I?" he asked.  
Asajj held his gaze for a moment and considered saying no, but the truth was that she didn't really mind.  
"Knock yourself out. - she replied - By tomorrow it'll be gone." she added with a twinge of killjoy satisfaction.  
His hand was back on her hair in an instant, lightly grazing the strands, but without touching her scalp.  
"I bet you can't really feel anything." she provoked, repressing a shiver, however she couldn't help the way her eyes fluttered and her voice sounded ever-so-slightly breathy.  
"I can, barely. It feels... soft." he replied quietly. His eyes were closed, as if visual inputs could distract him from what he was sensing, and Asajj could tell that he was frowning slightly in concentration, unwilling to miss even a fraction of that unexpected experience.  
"I am not a soft woman." Asajj declared defensively, even as she involuntarily leaned into his touch.  
"I know. You are a warrior and a leader." he whispered heatedly and his touch became a bit firmer, fingertips grazing her scalp and sending little shivers down her spine.  
Between his touch and his words, Asajj couldn't help but let a small contented sound escape her lips. She had never thought that something so... well... chaste could feel so good, and that he could be so patient and gentle.

By the time he started to caress her hair against the grain and trying to tangle his fingers in it on her nape, she was tingling all over and barely preventing herself from moaning out loud. Her eyes were squeezed shut but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her face, and she could feel his breathing pattern change with excitement. He was looking at her and he liked what he saw.  
"Like hell I am going to shave my head again!" she though.  
If this was what she could expect on a regular basis, she was going to let it grow out on the top and back in a lazyhawk, like when she was younger.  
She could imagine him grabbing her by the hair on her nape as she rode him, pulling with just the right amount of force to make her skin erupt in goosebumps and her pulse quicken with need.  
"Just like now..." she realised.  
She felt his breath on her skin, and she hoped, wished, _needed_ for him to kiss her. If she jumped his bones on the bed, the damned thing would probably end up wrecked, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was getting out of there the following morning, and she could sleep one night on the floor if that meant relieving the need that clawed at her whole being.

And then suddenly his fingers found _that_ spot on the nape of her neck and she gasped loudly, shuddering helplessly and nearly collapsing on the bed in a boneless heap. At that point, display or weakness or not, she didn't care if he topped her, for once, and fucked her bloody. Deep in a corner of her mind she even hoped that he did, but her most coherent thought was just that she needed to have sex with him more than she needed anything else.  
She heard him growl, low and dangerous, and let her body relax, accepting whatever might happen as long as it was sex, but instead of going ahead and ravishing her, he let his hand fall as quickly as if he had been burned.  
The bed shifted with a loud groan and he was back on his feet and moving towards the door before she could figure out what was happening.  
"I... I have to go. I'll see you at four then." he said, and, as suddenly as he had arrived, he was out.

Dazed and still intoxicated by the things he had made her feel, Asajj barely had the time to figure out what was happening before the door closed behind his back.  
Alone in the infirmary room, she blinked and gaped, confused and almost unable to believe her senses. Disbelief quickly dissipated, leaving room for disappointment and anger.  
What had possessed him to just run away like that, as quickly as from a lost battle? And just as she was offering herself to him like one of those weak women from the eight o'clock HoloNet serial!  
"What did I do wrong?" she asked herself. She felt rejected and it hurt, and the fact that her whole body still ached for him made her humiliation all the more bitter.  
"Bloody clanker!" she cursed, biting her lip no longer to mute her whimpers, but rather to stave off impending tears.  
He'd been so much in a hurry to leave that he had left his parcel behind on the trolley, a piece of cloth loosely wrapped around two slightly knobbly and oblong objects. The mere sight of something that belonged to him was enough to send her to new heights of fury.  
"You fucking bastard!" she screamed, grabbing the bundle and throwing it as hard as she could against the door. The contents clanged with a metallic sound against the panel, bouncing to the floor.  
She hoped it was something fragile, something he would need soon and without which he would be in dire straits. She was going to wreck it, to break it in tiny, useless pieces, she vowed, using the Force to pull away the cloth bundled around the contents.

Wrapped in it were two lightsaber hilts. Asajj froze and her hold on the Force momentarily dissipated.  
She knew them.  
They were...  
No, it couldn't be... It just could not. Her worse threats had not been enough to convince him to give them back to her. Dooku's intervention had solved nothing.  
And yet those two hilts couldn't be anything but the one she had built for herself when she was still a Padawan, and her master's.

Asajj lifted them up reverently and held them to the light.  
Yes, it was them, there was absolutely no doubt. Her hands knew them even better than her eyes did, and they fit in her palms like the new ones Dooku had given her never could. She caressed their smooth, ridged surfaces with trembling fingers, her vision clouded by tears.

That underhanded bastard... she thought, feeling her thoughts about him soften immediately. He had given them back to her without telling her anything.  
Did that have anything to do with his quick retreat? Did he leave like a thief in the night because he felt awkward about it?  
Even with his earlier perplexing and kriffing irritating behaviour, now she would have to thank him, she thought.  
That should have chafed, but all irritation was swamped within moments by the relief of having been given back her only links to a happier and more innocent past, and by the memories they triggered.

 _Master Ky Narec. His open, warm smile._  
Feeling loved and cherished and important.  
His almost fatherly pride as she worked hard and learned the ways of the Force and of the sword.

She had been happy and innocent then.  
And weak like only a kriffing Jedi pup could be. With the benefit of hindsight, it was obvious that her Master's efforts for peace would be cut short by the warlords. She knew she should despise her older self and her Master for their weakness, but deep in her heart she missed those innocent times, when everything had been simple and clear, and she missed him, the father she had never had, her only friend.  
If he could see her now, he would probably hate her for what she had become, but what she had done, she had done for him, to avenge him and to bring his idea to fruition.  
Rattatak had known relative peace and order under her rule. Maybe the people had not thrived, but they had managed to survive a bit better than under a plethora of warring warlords.  
She had done what she could, for as long as she could, and if Master Ky Narec was still out there somewhere, in any shape or form, she hoped that he understood.

Her anger and disappointment completely forgotten, Asajj turned off the light with a flick of the Force. She curled up in the infirmary bed, holding the saber hilts close to her chest, and cried herself to sleep.


	7. Towards the Rising Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original Star Wars characters. I do own the OCs, though. I do not make a £ from this.
> 
> Warning: bad language, slight sexism, mentions of recreational alcohol and drug use and a toilet joke. Plus, very camp but actually straight Neimoidian lawyers and disabled characters interacting and doing things.
> 
> Thanks to all that took time to review/follow/fave the last chapters! You are awesome!
> 
> Flame all you want, I'm fireproof.

As it turned out, the club Roghan had been talking about was "next to the base" only in the loosest sense.  
From the entrance, it was nearly a three-mile hike around the military perimeter and then into the woods, and public transport services had already stopped for the night. Garu couldn't really complain, though. Their prospective friends were going to front all expenses and the night was pleasantly warm. They chatted idly and laughed, and even started singing at a certain point.  
The closer they got to the club, the more people they started seeing on the road. Groups of people whizzed past on speeder bikes or hover-skates, others cruised slowly in bigger landbound vehicles, music blasting out of their sound systems. Many of the people they crossed wore some sort of military uniform. It looked to Garu as all the young people from the base were gathering there for the night.

"Quite busy, isn't it?" Garu commented to Tulah.  
The Muun nodded and grinned. "It's summer. - he replied as if it explained everything - We'll have to queue up for a bit, but it's totally worth it, trust me."  
Garu nodded. "Anything is fine for me. I've never been to a proper club before, only to cantinas." he admitted.  
"Then you'll have a blast. This is the best club in this quadrant of the Galaxy." Tulah said smugly.  
"That's not true. - one of the youngest Iotrans chimed in - The music is much better at the Ironworks on Saleucami."  
"Only if you don't like your eardrums very much, Johtar." Tulah replied.  
"I like them well enough, thank you. - Johtar replied - It's not my fault that you have the musical taste of my twelve year old sister..."  
"That's harsh, comrade." Tulah protested, but with a smile.  
"No, no, it is only fair. - the Iotran replied - Do you know why pop is called like that?" he asked Garu, who could only shake his head. Tulah rolled his eyes and sighed. It must have been an old joke for him.  
"Because after you listen to it, it disappears like that, pop! And leaves you with nothing." Johtar explained.  
"Yeah, and the stuff you listen to leaves you with auditory damage. And the stuff they play here is not pop. It is mostly Galactic fusion-folk. It's good stuff. " Tulah retorted.  
Garu found himself smiling at the antics of the two IGBC comrades, but evidently someone found it irritating.

"Are you two still bitching about music?! - Roghan asked - Every time we go to a club is the same old shit. Can't you can it for once?"  
"Sorry sir." both Tulah and Johtar said, almost in unison.  
Roghan snorted. "Good. It's not like most people care about what music they play in these places. - he commented - Me, I care for booze and girls, and here the booze is cheap and good quality, and the girls are quite naked. Best club that there is." he declared.  
At the last remark, Garu felt a twinge of apprehension. The IGBC people were all men, but he had several women in his squad.  
"This is not a strip club or something like that, is it?" he asked Tulah. Linlin liked girls, so he supposed she wouldn't mind, but the others would probably get offended, especially Auray.  
"No! Gods forbid! - Tulah exclaimed, lifting his hands in conciliation - It would be so embarrassing... It's because of the beach."  
"The beach?" Garu repeated.  
"Yes, the club is built next to the lake and has its own private beach. - the Muun revealed - There is also a heated swimming pool for winter. People lounge on the beach and have a swim in their pants. It is a tradition of the place."  
"And most girls swim topless." Roghan added.  
Garu nearly overbalanced for a moment at the thought of Auray emerging from the water wearing nothing but her briefs, her green-blue skin beaded with droplets of water. His mouth felt suddenly dry and his trousers too tight. Luckily the others were too busy chattering to notice his predicament.

"Well, bras take ages to dry." Tulah declared, nodding knowingly.  
"And how do you know this, funny boy?" Roghan asked, elbowing the Muun and winking.  
Tulah blushed so hard that his pale cheeks became bright pink. "I brought my ex-girlfriend here a few times. The first time she swam with her bra. She complained quite a lot afterwards." he explained, reddening further.  
"You brought her here? Didn't she rust?" another Iotran asked.  
"Why do you have to be always an indelicate arsehole, Gerden?! Of course she didn't rust!" Tulah exclaimed, incensed by the remark.  
"Was your girlfriend... Was she a clanker?" Leth asked with morbid fascination, having overheard the quarrel.  
"She is a cyborg. - Tulah retorted - Lost her legs on a mine or something when she was a kid. She had cybernetic prostheses."  
"And she could swim? - Leth chimed in, sounding perplexed - Didn't they drag her down?"  
Tulah shrugged. "They're made of some sort of ultralight polymer and carbon fiber. - he replied - She made them herself."  
"That sounds like an awfully clever lady." Leth commented, nodding in admiration. Garu couldn't help but second his brother's opinion.  
"She is. - Tulah confirmed with the warmest smile Garu had seen so far on his face - Intelligent and funny and sweet."  
"And with a nice ass and big boobs!" Gerden added, chortling and cupping his hands in front of his chest.  
"This doesn't even merit a comment." the Muun declared disdainfully.  
"I suppose she had to compensate somehow for her hideous face..." Gerden continued, heedless of the danger.  
"That's it, piece of shit! I'm going to break your face!" Tulah erupted, diving for his comrade.  
Roghan, Johtar and even Van interposed themselves between the two of them, trying to keep the Muun away from Gerden, who in the meantime had retreated behind his superior.  
"Can't keep your trap shut, can you, Gerden?" the Iotran captain barked.  
"I was only joking! - the other protested - There is no need to get so upset about it!"  
"You have the _savoir-faire_ of a blind bantha, comrade." Tulah spat, who had already snapped out of his fury, but was still not quite his calm and collected self.  
"Stand warned that I will not tolerate you talking about her or any of my ex-girlfriends in these terms." he added icily.  
Gerden threw his hands in the air and acquiesced. "Alright, alright. I ain't gonna talk about your women no more." he said defensively and dropped towards the back of the group, mouthing something that sounded a lot like "whipped git".  
"Arsehole..." Tulah growled, casting him a dark look as he withdrew.

"You still like her." Leth said, stating the obvious.  
"I do. - the Muun admitted - We are still friends." he quickly added.  
"Aah... The friend-zone! There is no worse confinement..." Leth laughed.  
"Better friends than losing her completely. - Tulah insisted - At least I still get to talk to her, even see her sometimes... I am totally screwed, am I not?" he concluded, shrugging.  
"I guess it happens..." Garu said, trying express sympathy.  
Tulah shrugged again. "I guess it does... - he confirmed - And now you know about my most pathetic romantic experience..." he sighed.  
"You nearly missed a front-row seat on mine, earlier this evening." Garu revealed, deciding that a bit of embarrassment was fine if it helped build some camaraderie.  
Tulah quirked an eyebrow, looking interested. "Broke up with you at the dinner table?"  
"Worse, refused my marriage proposal." Garu replied, shaking his head ruefully even as he smiled.  
The Muun's eyes went wide. "Oh dear..." he commented with a low, admiring whistle.  
"It was made mostly in jest, but still..." Garu said, shrugging.  
"Oh, he looked as if she had slapped him with a week-dead fish." Leth revealed, grinning impishly.  
"I do like her very much." Garu admitted, turning to look at Auray. She was walking a bit behind them, chatting with Tush, Nyto and some of the girls, laughing at something someone had said. Beautiful, Garu thought.

An open-top troop-carrier landspeeder from the Raxian Volounteer Corps approached the rear of the group, honking lightly to make itself known.  
"Do you know them?" Tulah asked, jabbing his thumb towards the vehicle.  
The driver, a youngish Duros wearing a pair of goggles over his head, was leaning out of the window. "Hey beauties! Do you want a ride?" he yelled to the girls. Sitting next to him in the central seat was a purple-skinned Twi'lek woman, who was smoking a cigar with evident relish, and riding shotgun was a human guy with a spiky hairdo.  
At the back, more humans, a couple more Duros and an assorted bunch of near-humans and other species. Raxus Secundus had a big port and between that and the military base, it attracted people of all sorts.  
"I think they are the people we played blasterball against last night. They are a friendly lot." Garu replied.

The driver slowed the truck down so that it kept apace with the group and the people in he rear seats stood up and greeted them.  
"Hey, grubs! Fancy seeing you here!" a red-skinned Twi'lek lad yelled from the rear compartment.  
Garu seemed to remember that he was called Xan or something like that, but most of all he remembered his tricky bowling, almost lazy, but with an effect that made the ball drop and spin as it approached.  
"Hey, mate! Nice to see you guys too!" Garu yelled back, waving in their direction.  
"No training tonight?" the Twi'lek asked.  
"Nah, we met some mates and decided to celebrate. How about you?" Garu asked.  
"It's Lux eighteenth lifeday. We're having a blast!" Xan exclaimed.  
"And where is the party boy?" Garu asked. He couldn't see the dark-haired human boy on the truck, but he didn't know him so well to be sure.  
"His mom invited some posh friends over for dinner. He'll join us as soon as he can escape." said a light-skinned Zabrak girl with a spiral pattern tattooed across the bridge of her nose. Garu remembered her powerful swing with a blasterball bat, but couldn't quite recall her name.  
"And who are your new friends?" Xan asked, waving his lekkus with interest.  
"I'm Tulah Tefnakt, from the C&S division of the IGBC, nice to meet you people. - the Muun chimed in with his most charming tone and smile - That is my captain, Roghan Silash, and those are the rest of my comrades." he added waving his hand in their direction.  
"I'm Xanda'lai Mathavan, from the Raxus Volunteers Corps - the Twi'lek introducesd himself with a bow - She is Ardatha Katako." he added, pointing to the Zabrak.  
"Call me Hardy, guys." she chimed in.  
"I guess you'll get to know the rest of the people during the night." Xanda'lai continued.  
"We don't want to intrude." Garu objected.  
"Ah, nonsense! - Hardy exclaimed - Your friends are new to Raxus, no? We don't want to make a bad impression."  
"We are hospitable people here." Xanda'lai added.  
Garu bowed and Tulah followed his suit. "Then we'll be honoured to join you." the Neimodian said.

"Hey, mate, what's your name again?" another militiaman, a dark-skinned human chimed in, looking slightly alarmed.  
"I'm Garu Cato." the Neimodian responded.  
"I'm Neel. - the man introduced himself - Your mate there at the back... is he OK?" he asked, pointing towards the back of the group where Tush had stopped and was rubbing his injured leg, pale as a sheet. Nyto hovered nearby, dancing from one foot to the other in worry.  
"Oh, crap! - Garu exclaimed - Hey, Tush! What's wrong?" he yelled.  
"I'm alright, don't worry! I'm just a bit sore." the gunslinger replied, straightening up and starting to walk again, with a noticeable limp.  
"Hey, do you want a lift?" one of the Duros asked.  
"I wouldn't mind!" Tush replied, perking up considerably.  
"Come on then!" the Duros entreated, leaning out of the back of the truck with the support of some of his companions and extending a hand towards him.  
Tush grabbed the Duros' hand and the side of the truck and with the assistance of Nyto, who gave him a push from the rear, he managed to haul himself up onto the platform.  
The Raxians let him sit among them without a second thought and promptly included him in the conversation.

Something like that would have never occurred on Neimoidia or on any of the Purse Worlds, Garu thought, but here they were accepted, they made friends, and were rather fast at that.  
"There is more space here at the back if someone is fed up with walking!" Xanda'lai announced cheerfully.  
Van and Leth promptly accepted the suggestion and clambered up, as did the girls. Nyto followed suit, then Murko.  
Garu cast a glance at Tulah, who nodded. "Why not?" the Muun said, and in a moment they were wedged between the Raxians. There was barely enough space to sit, but someone had produced a bottle of pulkay and was passing it around, and the sweetish smell of dreamweed floated in the air.  
Another bottle made its way to the back of the compartment and down to the people who had chosen to keep walking, saluted by enthusiastic cheers.

"That's the spirit people! - Xanda'lai exclaimed, raising his fist in the air - Let's drink and make merry! We are the free people! We are the future! And we ride towards the Rising Sun!"  
Garu grinned and took a swig of pulkay, passing the bottle towards Tulah, as the Raxians roared their approval. The Muun had told him that Rising Sun was the name of the club, but Xanda'lai's words had still struck a chord in his soul.  
He could feel the future rushing towards them, a dazzling array of possibilities like stars through the viewport of a spaceship, and for the first time he contemplated it without anxiety, but with excitement and anticipation. He took a puff of the proffered dreamweed joint and passed it along, laughing at the joke Tush had just made.  
Tonight life was made to be enjoyed.

Half past midnight. The corridors of the CIS Army base were mostly empty at that hour.  
Hoover-bots scurried underfoot, scrubbing the floors with vigour as they chattered among themselves in binary, and some Raxian Army personnel from the night shift ambled about, quietly going about their business.  
Even if he didn't have any really pressing business, General Grievous traversed the mostly empty corridors with a brisk pace, ignoring the twinge of integrity sensors in his leg.

He picked his way by memory, but his attention was focused elsewhere: on the witch, on the warmth of her skin that he imagined he could still feel in his hands, even as he knew that it was not possible.  
There was no point in going back to her room now. He should have stayed with her. He should have...  
No, he chided himself. No point in thinking about that now. He had to deal with the consequences of his choices, but maybe not right now.  
Right now, what he needed was to find something to occupy himself with, something useful and constructive, something that required his entire attention.  
Find an office, check the inbox, make some calls. That was the plan.  
Work, to forget. It was either that, or going somewhere and picking a fight. Considering the sorry state he was still in, work was the safer option for the moment.

When he arrived at the operations office, it was basically deserted. The night-shift skeleton crew consisted of a single effective, a middle-aged, indigo-skinned Chagrian man, who promptly snapped to attention as soon as he had cleared the door. Some soft, relaxing music floated from a subspace radio, and the air was pervaded by the smell of ginger and lemongrass wafting from a cup of tea left on the desk.  
"I need an office." Grievous demanded without preamble.  
The Chagrian nodded, without losing his composure, and called out some sort of booking system.  
"A lot of the briefing rooms are booked, later today, sir, but I am sure we can find a solution. - the man announced placidly - How many seats do you need? Do you require hyperwave communication facilities for a video-conference?" he asked.  
"Seats?!" Grievous thought, slightly baffled by the quiet competence and composure of the man. He wasn't used to people behaving normally around him, but Raxus so far was throwing all his predictions.  
"I'm not planning to host a meeting. - he replied, a bit less harshly than before - I just want a place to access the Shadowfeed and make a couple of holo-calls." he clarified.  
"Well, sir, I don't want to appear too forward, but why don't you use the facilities attached to your quarters here at the base?" the Chagrian suggested.  
"My what?!" Grievous exclaimed.

As it turned out, as Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies and one of the highest ranking military personnel in the CIS, he really had a sort of apartment reserved for him in the base.  
The Chagrian, Phred Yrth according to his badge, had momentarily closed the operations office, putting up a "be right back" sign, and had led him through a few twist and turns down the corridors of the base, stopping in front of a door in the residential area of the base.  
"There it is, sir. - Phred announced with a flourish - I am surprised you have never been shown it. The standards of service here are horrific." he commented quietly, shaking his horned head. He touched a chip to the control panel next to the door and it opened with a very quiet hiss.  
"Have a nice stay, sir, and let us know if you need anything. - Phred said cheerfully, handing the chip over to him - Extension 6025. I'll be in service all night." he added, bowing slightly and turning on his heels.  
Grievous watched him traverse the corridor with a dignified, unhurried step. That was an odd fellow, he thought, shaking his head.

The apartment was bigger than he had expected and basically brand new. The paint on the walls was reasonably fresh and the furniture was nothing fancy, but looked sturdy and undamaged. It was a far cry from some of the guesthouses he had bunked in during his service in the IGBC.  
Grievous stuffed the access chip in one of the pockets that lined his cloak and took a look around, quickly locating the control panel for the air-con, and switching the damned thing off. It didn't just chill him to the bone, metaphorically speaking, but it also dried whatever little was left of his airways, making him cough even harder, and driving him nearly crazy with thirst.  
There were few worse tortures for someone who was physically incapable of drinking.

Satisfied that the blasted contraption was completely switched off, Grievous resumed his inspection of the place. The room he was currently standing in appeared to function both as a living/dining room and an office. In one corner there was a small folding table and chairs (useless), an equally useless, fully equipped kitchenette, and a definitely more useful couch, while the other side of the room was occupied by a pretty high-end holo-projector, equipped with a hyperwave transciever, a terminal connected to the Shadowfeed, and a 2D monitor. It was pretty neat, as hot-desks went, Grievous thought, surprised at the thoughtfulness of the Raxians.  
There was even a bit of space for him to pace, if he started feeling nervous.

Shaking his head, he paced to the next room, which contained a wardrobe - reasonably useless, but at least he could hang his cloak in there - and a large bed, which, unfortunately, was definitely useless.  
In the week or so that had elapsed since their misadventure on Naqdaa, however tired, or bored, he might have felt, he had not managed to sleep even for a minute. Without the witch, and the link that bound them, any respite was impossible.  
The fact irritated him a lot less than he thought it would. He had never fancied sleeping alone anyway, and now it seemed less attractive than ever. Every time he remained in the same position for too long, his proprioceptive sensors tended to go idle, and he couldn't stand the feeling of disembodiment that filled him when it happened. If he ever managed to fall asleep by himself, he would probably wake up in hysterics, thinking that he was still in the tank... No, waking up to someone else's warmth and touch was the only acceptable solution. Otherwise, he had survived nearly two years without sleep, so it must not be that much of an issue, he told himself.

The last door led to the bathroom. Grievous peered in and paused on the threshold, tilting his head in perplexity. There was something wrong with the bathroom, or rather with the entire flat, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.  
The shower-stall... he mused, approaching it doubtfully. It occupied the end of the room and was separated by the rest of the appliances by a permaglass sliding door.  
Grievous opened it and entered the stall. The shower-head was plumbed into the wall above his head...  
"That's it!" he thought, suddenly realising what was wrong with the place. The shower-stall would have been too big and the shower-head too high up on the wall for a normal person.  
Even the couch and the chairs in the other room were slightly over-sized.  
It was as if whoever had refurbished the flat had done it thinking about the fact that it would be used by someone who was seven feet tall. It was as if they had thought of him and tried to make his day-to-day life easier and more comfortable. The thought was nearly inconceivable, but uplifting at the same time.  
Maybe not all the Separatists were arrogant and prejudiced like the Neimoidians, or indifferent like the Geonosians and Count Dooku.  
Maybe even if they saw him more like an asset, than like a person, it was not the default behaviour of the people of the CIS in general. He didn't actually know. He had hardly seen any since the beginning of the war, but he would probably see quite a few during his stay on Raxus.  
The Raxians didn't rely so much on droids as the Neimoidians, and had a solid military tradition. He would finally have the chance to work with real people...That was a comforting thought.

Buoyed by those reflections, Grievous returned to the main room and switched on the terminal. As it booted up, he walked to the big windows and drew away the curtains. It was dark outside, but not dark enough that he couldn't make out an open field and, in the distance, lights reflected on water. There must be a lake, out there, he reflected. He could bet that it would be a nice view, with the sun.  
With an irritating jingle, the terminal came to life. Grievous left the curtains drawn to let the night in and sat gingerly at the desk. The chair held without too much protest.  
The terminal, a new model from an Outer Rim firm, ran a Battledroid operating system, one of those open-source things developed by some geeky kids somewhere in the Outer Rim in response to the near-monopoly of few Core-world companies in the electronics market.  
Even the terminals on Raxus were pure CIS, he thought, chuckling to himself.  
Luckily, he was reasonably familiar with it, and quickly managed to get into his Shadowfeed account without issues.  
As usual, the inbox was chock-full of circular messages regarding trivial details of military life and, occasionally, obituaries of fallen officers. Grievous ignored them, scanning through the piles of crap in search of the one message that interested him.

There it was, he thought with satisfaction a moment later. Commander Dofine had truly sent him the contact details of his lawyer.  
Speaking to a Neimoidian was the last thing he wanted to do, being in such a good mood, but it needed to be done. He copied the contact details in the holo-call software and double-checked the Galactic Time.  
It would be mid-afternoon on Cato Neimoidia. Perfect.  
Grievous pressed the holo-call button and turned towards the projector, orienting the holo-cam on its base so that it would capture him better.

The lawyer, a certain Eli Donnay, replied almost immediately, or rather his PA did. Grievous was faced with an attractive Twi'lek girl dressed in what looked a pinup version of a Neimoidian robe.  
"Donnay, Gazi and Roth. How can I help you, sir?" the girl asked in a sugary, singsong voice, evidently as perplexed by him as he was by her.  
"I need to speak to Eli Donnay. Commander Dofine sent me his contact." Grievous replied, feeling rather uneasy. He had never called a lawyer before. Usually it had been the legal affairs department of the IGBC to call him when things got a bit out of hand during his assignments.  
"Ah, yes. He told us you would. - she commented - Just bare with me a minute." she added and disappeared. In her place, the projector showed a pattern of waves changing in time with some soft, irritating music.  
"By the gods and the ancestors!" he though, jumping to his feet and immediately starting to pace back and forth as he concentrated very hard on not breaking anything. He hated to be put on hold.

The lawyer appeared after a good five minutes of wait. He was a male Neimoidian, about the same age as Dofine, as far as he could judge, and attired in an elegant, tight-fitting dark robe.  
"Ah, General! - Donnay exclaimed, clapping his manicured hands in real or pretended excitement - Lush had told me you would call, but, to be honest, I was starting to despair and to think that you had decided to contract someone else!" he added jovially.  
"I had more pressing business to attend to." Grievous retorted harshly.  
"Oh, dear, I can imagine. - the lawyer commented, looking not even minimally offended - Now, dear Lush has told me that you had a misadventure with some officers of the Neimoidian fleet at Naqdaa, and that you want to sue them out of their _haute-couture_ pants." he added, getting on to business.  
"That is correct." Grievous commented dryly, baffled by the Neimoidian's mannerisms.  
"Right. Do you know their names? - he asked - Because that would speed up things considerably, you know?" he added cheerfully.  
"I don't. - Grievous replied, feeling like an idiot for having prevented the officer from the battleship from identifying himself - We only commed briefly."  
"Oh, that is unfortunate. - Donnay commented, taking notes on his datapad - Could you identify the ships at least?"  
"There were two frigates, Hidden Stinger and Auntie Fist, and a battleship, but I couldn't identify it. - Grievous replied - Commander Ventress might be able to provide more information."  
"You are taking joint action? - Donnay asked, smiling from ear to ear - That's sweet. Nothing cements a friendship more than a shared legal dispute, let me tell you." he declared.  
"I'll ask her to contact you as soon as she can." Grievous offered, rather anxious to conclude the unnerving call.  
"Yes, that would be absolutely lovely. - the lawyer agreed - Even better, if you could write a joint deposition of what happened, it would be fantastic. Honest."  
"That was in the plans. - Grievous assented - We will send it to you tomorrow around this time, hopefully."  
"Terrific. - the lawyer commented, then turned away from the holocam - Lola! Sweetheart! Can you look up in what battle group do the Hidden Stinger and the Auntie Fist usually fly?" he shouted.  
"Sure, darling!" the girl shouted back.  
Donnay turned back to the camera with a winsome smile. "Just for our peace of mind, in case Commander Ventress does not remember. - he explained - Lola will find out the names of the officers in a pinch. Given a bit more time, she'll be able to tell us what size underwear they wear. Best fact-checker I've ever met. And she can cook as well... She is a treasure, really. I am a lucky man to have her." he added fondly.  
Grievous rumbled something that could sound like an agreement, ever more baffled. He had thought that the lawyer was the campest man he had ever met, but appearances had deceived him, this time.

"So, what are we going to sue them for? - Donnay asked - Property damage? Personal damage? Lush told me you guys got pretty banged up down there. Brrr... I can't even think about it!" he commented, hugging himself in horror.  
"Desertion. - Grievous replied - And treason, if we manage. They withdrew support, caused the deaths of many men, and put even more at risk. The rest of the CIS Army needs to see that this behaviour will not be condoned." he explained, feeling his blood start to boil again at the mere thought.  
"This is serious business..." Donnay commented, opening his eyes wide in surprise.  
"War is serious business, Mr Donnay. - Grievous said sternly - Are you in or not?"  
"Of course I am! - the lawyer exclaimed - Lush's friends are my friends, and if it comes to a confrontation between the Dofines and Gunray's clique, I already know what side I should be on." he explained.  
"Then we are agreed." Grievous concluded.  
Donnay nodded and grinned. "I wouldn't miss an occasion to stick one up Gunray's jumper. - he said, winking as if they were old friends - Lola will send you the material as soon as she has it. Give her a call if you have any queries. She'll be in the office the whole night."  
Grievous nodded but without any conviction. Calling the airy PA/girlfriend of Donnay wasn't really high in his list of priorities.  
"She'll be dealing with her first corporate merger since she made partner of the firm. - Donnay added in a whisper, smiling with complicity - Isn't it exciting?"  
"Ah... Best luck to her, then." Grievous offered, feeling a bit like an idiot for having assumed without knowing. The witch would have never let him live it down, had she known about it.  
"I'll tell her. - Donnay said - So... As soon as I have everything, we'll set up a meeting to discuss the strategy, and then mark a date in court."  
"Agreed. - the cyborg assented with a nod - Grievous out." he announced, and before he managed to end the call he heard one last: "Oh my gods, this is so exciting!"

It was half past one local time when he closed the call and realised that he didn't have anything else pressing to do, but still a lot of energy and anxiety to burn off. Watching some entertainment on the Shadowfeed didn't sound very attractive, and playing videogames would, likely as not, make him even more nervous and aggressive.  
Then it dawned on him. He could go down to the shipyards and try to get things started about the Invisible Hand. At the very least, he would have a good walk, if nothing else.  
Convinced of his own counsel, Grievous switched off the terminal and the lights, leaving the flat quietly as a shadow.

The shipyards were on the opposite side of the field he could see from his windows, which apparently was part of the sports grounds of the base.  
The hangars were smaller than the ones where the Invisible Hand and her sister ships had been built, but still massive and cavernous. The Raxian built their own brand of sentient-operated fighters, plus shuttles, gunships and assorted small craft, and they were known for their fine engineering school, which people said was on par with the Mandalore Institute of Technology and the Coruscant Polytechnic. They would do a good job of modifying his flagship to his specifications. Or else.

While in the hangars there was some people milling about and possibly still working, the offices attached to them were very nearly deserted.  
"Well, what were you expecting? It's the small of the night, most normal people will be sleeping, or having drunken fun in some cantina." he chided himself.  
Most people had a life outside the army. The fact that he had not, and that his free time consisted mostly of pacing around empty corridors hoping to find someone to harass depressed him quite considerably.  
He ploughed on regardless, scanning the corridors for any sign of life, and eventually he found an occupied office.

The skeleton crew of the Raxian Fleet Engineers consisted, to all intents and purposes ,of a single Captain, an extremely tall and thin woman with greyish skin patterned in vertical lines, dark red stains around her eyes, and a completely bald pate.  
Even though he knew how irritating it was to be stared at, Grievous couldn't help but examine her with perplexity. He had seen his share of weird people, but never someone like her.  
The Captain had a big holographic simulation of a spaceship thruster loaded up on her workstation and appeared totally engrossed in it, running some complicated calculations and entering the readings on a separate terminal.  
"I'll be with you in a moment! " she said, without lifting her head from the calculations.  
Not too far gone not to notice that someone was in the room, not there enough to notice who it was. Grievous knew that he should have been angry at what could be construed as a slight, but somehow his anger didn't rise to the occasion, and he just nodded to himself, leaning on the wall and waiting. Her work was oddly fascinating.

He dimly remembered working on a ship with some friends, sometime in his past, with grease up to his elbows and stains all over his clothes. They had been swapping parts around between the ships they had captured, until they had obtained something that looked like a pile of haphazardly thrown-together salvage, but could fly on almost any fuel, and packed more punch than a ship that size had the right to. Their first hybrid shuttle.  
The Martyr.  
They had been so proud of it... And now it was at the bottom of the Jenuwaa sea, together with all their dreams and hopes.  
They used to be good modders, he and his friends, and they had known how to work with limited resources, but none of them had had the knowledge or the tech to design a ship from scratch, not even a single component like the Captain was doing.  
What he was seeing now was almost a form of art.  
Pieces of the thruster came apart and recombined layer by layer, vectors and forces overlaid themselves on all possible planes, blinking in and out of existence in the space of a second, almost in a mathematical ballet, and the changes became smaller and smaller at each iteration, until the thruster assumed a more or less definitive shape.

"Ha! Gotcha!" the strange woman exclaimed, raising a fist in the air in victory. She switched off the three-dimensional projection and raised her eyes from the calculations.  
Yellow irises and dark scleras, Grievous noticed. Alarmed eyes in a very mortified face.  
"Oh, shit!" the woman cursed quietly, but not quietly enough for the cyborg's enhanced senses to pick it up.  
"General Grievous, sir! I didn't realise it was you! - the woman exclaimed - I am so sorry! I am such a nitwit, sometimes... Did I leave you hanging overlong, sir?" she asked, with a distinct cringe.  
She looked ashamed and worried, but Grievous could not detect the usual "oh-gods-I'm-gonna-die" terror in her. It was more as if she was mortified of having left a superior waiting, than as if she thought that her life was in danger. It was strangely refreshing.

"It was worth the wait. - Grievous replied, approaching her desk - What was that simulation for?"  
"Oh, that? - the woman replied, relieved of the change in subject - It is a theoretical stress test on a new thruster design. I'm trying to make the whole thing more compact and efficient, sir." she explained with a goofy smile that revealed sharp, pointy teeth.  
Grievous blinked and tilted his head in surprise.  
"Is it working?" he asked, crossing his arms and starting to pace in front of the desk.  
"So far, so good, but it's all virtual stuff for the moment. The practical test on the prototype is in a week or so. It could work, or it could blow. It's going to be interesting either way." she replied with a grin.  
"Pulling a night shift, just to make sure?" Grievous asked, almost friendly. The easy, chatty way of this strange woman was distracting him from his thoughts and he was secretly thankful for that.  
The Captain nodded. "My husband is doing his own night shift at the hospital, and the kids are camping with the school. So I have a few extra hours to myself, finally..."  
"To run simulations." Grievous concluded for her.  
The Captain nodded and grinned. "It is easier to get access to the computing cluster at night. - she explained - And it's either that or Shadowfeed entertainment and ice cream. It's nice, but tonight I was too inspired to just go and sleep. It payed off. I think I have it now."  
Grievous nodded and, much to his own chagrin, couldn't help but almost-smile.  
He knew the feeling. He couldn't sleep in normal circumstances, and, while sometimes he missed it, many times he was glad he could not, especially when an idea seized him and refused to let him go until he had developed it. Those born like that tended to be his best plans.  
Mostly, though, his sleep-related handicap it irritated him to no end. It was a thing more that he had in common with droids, and it gave Dooku a reason to expect him to be available around the clock, without any semblance of free or personal time. He didn't know what to do with it, when he had it, and ended up working anyway most of the time, but he felt that, being a person and not a bloody droid, he should be entitled to it.

Oblivious to his musings, the Captain smiled.  
"So how can I help you on this quiet night, sir?" she asked jovially.  
"It's about the modifications to be performed on my flagship. - Grievous replied - I assume your department has received word of it." he added.  
"Oh, yes. It was the best piece of news we had in a while. - the Captain confirmed, grinning from ear to ear - That's why I am pushing the accelerator so much with this project." she added, turning one of her monitors so that he could see what was displayed on it. At the moment it looked like a side-to-side comparison of her new design with a traditional thruster. Grievous looked more closely, accidentally invading her space, but apart from shifting her cup of caf out of harm's way, she didn't react to that in any way.  
"If it works, and as of yet it is a big if, the new design can reduce the size of the thrusters by 25%. - she pointed out - It doesn't sound much, but if you replace all thrusters, you'll reclaim the same space as if you had eliminated a couple of banks of them, hopefully without losing acceleration."  
Grievous remained silent for a few moments, letting the information sink in.  
"Are you telling me that I can have larger hangars without losing the capability for fast-ish manouvering?!" he asked, totally baffled.  
"That sounds about right." the woman confirmed, with another fangy smile.  
Grievous shook his head. "Why haven't the constructors thought about this, or the Neimoidians?" he asked, mainly to vent his irritation.  
"Not enough caf in the evenings?" the Captain suggested playfully.  
Grievous shot her an unamused look.  
"I suppose it is just a matter of seeing problems in a different way. - the Captain corrected herself - I used to work with racing speeders and pods, and in that field weight and efficiency are paramount. Everyone was pushing the damned things to the limit. Sometimes they blew. Sometimes they gave the racers the edge they needed to win. I am just applying some tricks I've learned over the years." she explained.  
"Sounds like an exciting career." Grievous commented.  
"It was a rush. Always on the move around the Galaxy, following the racing season. - she confirmed - One day on Tattooine for the Boonta Race, the next on Mandalore, and then on Saleucami, Corellia and then Naboo, for the Theed Tourist Classic. Funny thing is, I even met the current Chancellor there once." she added, nodding to herself.  
"I didn't know he was into racing." Grievous said, quirking an eyebrow in surprise.  
"He was when he was young. He was a speeder racer himself. It must have been, what? Almost fourty or fifty years ago. - she retorted, and her eyes glazed over for a moment in recollection - He was a self-entitled, spoiled, little piece of shit, if you excuse my Mandalorian."  
"Still is. - Grievous agreed - And how did you end up in the Raxian Fleet? You are not from these parts."  
"Not at all. I am Pauan, from Utapau. About as far as you can get from anywhere else in the Galaxy. - she declared - I was here for a race, met a guy, went out for drinks... you know how these things go. We really liked each other, and I realised it was time to settle down. The Fleet was recruiting engineers, and here I am. It has been nearly thirty years. Good years." she narrated, smiling softly.  
"Utapau is neutral. And yet you are here, planning to make a deadly ship more deadly..." Grievous commented.  
The Captain shrugged. "I am Raxian now, as far as I am concerned. - she declared - Down in their corner of the Galaxy everything must be fine enough for the Pauans to feel conservative, but I have seen how things are around the Rim, and how things that could have been done to fix them were omitted. If the Republic doesn't care about the Rim, they should let us govern ourselves. We can't do much worse than that." she argued, and indeed Grievous couldn't find fault in her reasoning.  
So there was actually someone who believed in the CIS and didn't just want to use it as a business opportunity. It was a comforting thought.  
"Ever considered a political career?" he teased her.  
The Captain laughed. She had a pleasant laugh, strong and sincere. "I don't have any patience. And I like this job too much." she replied, shaking her head.

Some alarm pinged in the background. Instinctively, Grievous tensed and scanned the room to identify any possible threat.  
"Don't worry, it is just my caf-maker. - the Captain reassured him - I really need one more go. Do you mind if I go get it?" she asked.  
Grievous waved vaguely and shrugged his shoulders. "Go ahead." he said.  
The woman nodded in thanks and wheeled herself away from her desk. "How have I managed not to notice that she is stuck on a wheelchair?!" Grievous asked himself.  
It wasn't even one of those electronic models that one could operate with a joystick, but an old mechanical one that she had to push around by the strength of her long, thin arms. Once again, Grievous tried not to stare as she moved around her office with ease born of practice, but ultimately couldn't help himself.  
Obviously she noticed and smiled sadly at him, shrugging her shoulders.  
"Were you wounded in action?" he asked. The matter was in the open, now, and he felt that it would be even more awkward to ignore it, than to address it.  
The Captain shook her head. "It was a climbing accident. - she replied - Me and some girls from the Rim Mountaineering Club were attempting the first women-only ascent of the Old Man Mountain on Mandalore."  
Grievous raised his eyebrows in admiration. "That is unfortunate." he commented.  
"Oh, no. We did plant the flag and everything. Total success. - she declared proudly - I fell on the way back. Broke my spine. But I'll be fine. The doctors are implanting a signal relay in me next month. I'll be on my feet by the end of the summer, hopefully." she added with a confident smile.  
"That's good to hear." Grievous said, impressed by the optimism and the energy of the woman. It reminded him of his Gunners, in a way.  
"Oh, yes. I can't wait to be able to climb again." the Captain agreed nodding vigorously.

"I don't want to seem forward, sir, but I have a question I wanted to ask you." she added in a more subdued, serious tone and after a brief pause.  
"Ask." Grievous allowed, feeling magnanimous.  
The Captain nodded to herself and took a deep breath. "I know you might not want to talk about it and I totally won't mind if you just tell me to mind my own business... - she started - But I am worried, and I do not have anyone else to ask and..." she continued, evidently fretting.  
"Ah, for the sake of the gods, woman! Just ask!" Grievous exclaimed, increasingly irritated by her beating around the bush.  
The Captain calmed down immediately. "Did it take very long to re-learn to walk, after... well, afterwards?" she asked quietly.  
Even if he had been expecting a question about his "condition", the woman's question surprised him anyway, mostly for being devoid of any morbid curiosity, and tinged instead with sympathy and worry.  
She was not prying into his business, but asking a fellow in misadventure some reassurance that all would be well, that she would be fine, eventually. Under her confidence and cheerfulness, she was deeply scared.

His mind involuntarily flashed back to the first weeks of his new life, when he was still struggling to cope with the change, harassed by the cold, feeling isolated because of the lack of real feeling, of the kind he had been used to, and yet perpetually startled by the alien sensations input in his brain by sensors and "improvements" of all kinds.  
It had been hellish and humiliating. The struggle to get used to his new body, to get it under control until he could do everything he had been able to do before and then some, had been long and hard, and he had not received any form of sympathy for it. He remembered the indifferent regards of the Geonosian engineers, their alien vocalisations, which he had always taken as derision and contempt, and then the cold-hearted, constant criticism in Dooku's comments, early in his training.  
They had made him angry enough to forget the horror that was his condition. They had made him strive to embrace it and exploit it, down to the last grotesque trick he could think of, if only to erase the sneer out of his face.  
It had been an expedient way to make him stop moping and get a grip on himself, but maybe there were other ways of fixing broken people. Gentler ways.

"Too long by any measure. - he rasped out - But you still have your organics, and hopefully you'll retain your muscle memory. It will be easier for you **.** " he added in an attempt to reassure her.  
"I hope my family doesn't laugh too hard when I start falling on my face left, right and center." she commented, smiling gratefully. She finally poured her caf into her mug, liberating an enticing, familiar scent.  
"What's that?" he asked before he could stop himself, closing his eyes to better concentrate on the scent.  
"Black drink. It's a kind of caf, sort of, but you must know as it's from Kalee. I like it very much. - the Captain replied - I would have offered you some, but..." she added, apologetically.  
"But I can't drink it. - Grievous completed the sentence, shaking his head mournfully - How did you get it? It's not sold around, as far as I know." he questioned.  
"It was the get-well-soon present from two of the girls from the expedition. - she replied - They studied at MIT, one mechanical engineering and the other geology, but were originally from Kalee. One of them even had a white mask a bit like yours, only with different symbols on it, sir." she added, waving a hand in front of her face to illustrate her words.  
"A hunter, then. - Grievous commented, feeling a memory strive to break the surface of his thoughts without quite making it - How can you drink it? Outlanders usually feel terribly sick if they do." he added, seeing the Captain gulp down some black drink without second thoughts.  
"The girls told me it's almost too strong for the metabolism of a near-human. - the woman commented - I am using very small amounts and lots of water. I've always felt fine, so far."  
"Once I mixed some in the caf of San Hill, the head of IGBC. He had refused me days off once too many. - Grievous narrated, feeling an almost-smile stretch what was left of his face at the memory - He used to drink his caf dark and very strong, for being a softskin. It didn't help him, though, he ended up puking and crapping his guts out anyway, the bastard." he added with vicious satisfaction, recalling how his former boss's pasty face had paled even further just before he had made a mad dash for the 'fresher.  
It had been when one of his daughters was going to leave for university. He had asked for some days to go back home and say goodbye, a fair request as he had not been home in months, but Hill had refused flat out, telling him that the IGBC was not a charity and that they expected him to actually work for his salary. He had never managed to see her again in person, before the accident. Never properly said goodbye...

"Oh, gods! Caffeine poisoning! This is evil!" the Captain exclaimed, laughing so much that some colour bloomed on her greyish face.  
"I wish I had known about the cling film trick as well, back then." Grievous said, trying to push the pain away, to bury it back into the graveyard of his memories.  
The Captain laughed even more. "Oh dear... - she wheezed - Better not to get on your bad side, then. Speaking of what, when do you think you will be available to have a meeting with the engineering team? Many of us have proposals to make, to improve your flagship even further." she added, back to a more professional demeanour.  
Grievous gave her a quizzical look. "Why do your people care so much about this project?" he asked.  
"To contribute to the fight. - she replied - So far the only thing Raxus has been allowed to give to the cause has been cash to buy more droids, plus some troops for minor engagements. We could do more. We want to do more. We want to win our freedom with our own hands. I think you know what I mean, sir." she added, giving him an intense, serious look.  
Grievous nodded gravely. "Yes. I do. I respect that. - he agreed - Maybe soon you will have the occasion that you were waiting for." he declared, hinting at things to come.  
He had not expected to find any true dedication to the cause in the citizens of prosperous Raxus, but he was glad that he had.  
He was glad that there were real people that supported what he and the other commanders of the army did, that they believed in them. He had been fighting for his own motives until then, to kill Jedi and avenge his dead, forgetting that there was a whole Confederacy of people he should actually be fighting for, people who looked up to him to defend them and grant them their freedom, people who would help if they were only given the chance, like the Gunners had been.  
There could be a higher purpose for him, other than simply killing and destroying. He could protect people. He could help them find their dignity and their freedom.  
These ideas resonated with something deep inside his soul, telling him that _this_ was what he had been born for. That he was supposed to be the sword of the gods, the bane of the enemy, but also the shield of his people.  
When he had accepted San Hill's proposal of joining the CIS, and started his new, reconstructed life, all the people who had sworn their allegiance to the CIS had become his people, his compatriots. He had just never realised before.  
The enormity of the realisation made his heart beat faster in his metal chest, but he strove to calm down and conclude his business.

"Tomorrow, I mean, later today, I have another meeting about the Naqdaa situation. - he said - Let's make it for the following day, about nine standard hours." he proposed  
"Sure. I'll book a meeting room right now. - she agreed enthusiastically - Phred would blow a gasket if we didn't." she added mischievously.  
"I'll leave to your simulations, then, Captain..." Grievous said.  
"Sunnay Arnos. - she finished, extending a hand towards him - It has been a honour to meet you, sir." she added solemnly.  
Grievous clasped her hand, mindful of his strength, and shook it, pretending it was an usual occurrence for him.  
"Likewise, Captain." he said.

When he returned to his quarters, the temperature was noticeably higher than when he had left. It felt homier than any accomodation he'd had for the last couple of years.  
Bundling his cloak on one of the chairs, he quickly turned on the terminal and checked his inbox again. There was a message from Lola Roth about the deserters, but he didn't feel like reading it. He was in a good mood and he didn't want to spoil it by thinking about those selfish cowards.  
In the last week or so, the gods had shown him that no matter how much he had changed outwardly, he was still himself.  
He was no more of a monster than when he had rid Kalee of the Huk. Now he had a bigger objective, but the essence of his calling remained the same. His spirit was the same, or it would be when he finally learned to fully accept his condition.  
It was time to reclaim the bits of his old life that still fit into the new one, and not to let the expectations or the prejudice of some people box him in.

He closed the inbox and found the subspace radio. A bit of fiddling with the tuning got him a station which was airing reasonably decent music, some fast and uplifting electro-punk.  
He turned off the volume on the radio, to spare the neighbours, and subconsciously adjusted his hearing sensors so that he would pick up the music regardless.  
A quick inspection of the counter under the sink revealed some dish-washing detergent and a pack of scourers. They were labelled as non-scratch, but even if they had not been, he doubted it would have made any difference. Duranium was some sort of ceramic, but it was much tougher stuff than ordinary dishware.  
He grabbed a scourer and the detergent and headed towards the bathroom, letting his improvised bandolier fall on the floor of the bedroom as he went.  
He turned on the shower to the hottest setting and turned on the shower speaker for good measure. The radio started blasting some angry speed-jatz. It sounded oddly appropriate.  
The water was hot enough to be nearly uncomfortable. Nearly was the key word, though, and as he stepped under the spray, it actually felt wonderful. He could _feel_ the droplets of water hitting him, and the warmth slowly seeping into him.  
It didn't feel artificial at all, and if he just closed his eyes he could almost deceive himself into believing he was still normal.  
No, he told himself, opening his eyes again.  
No more pretending, no more hiding. He had to live this life with eyes wide open, it was the only way for him to reclaim dignity and control.

Nodding to himself, he picked up the detergent and squeezed a generous dollop of it on the scourer.  
Usually the Geonosians hosed him down with frigid water from some high-pressure hoses of the kind used to wash spaceships or droids before maintenance. This time they had not bothered, and had left him as filthy as he had been when he had stepped out from the battlefield. Just one humiliation more, but they had been able to inflict it on him only because he was too disgusted by his own appearance to muster the courage to actually do something about it himself.  
Well, he didn't actually need anyone's help to clean himself, he decided, scrubbing at a particularly determined stain. He could manage perfectly fine on his own, and, now that he had finally gotten to do it, it didn't feel bad at all.  
The abrasive side of the scourer sort of tickled slightly, but pleasantly, and being able to do something for himself felt terribly empowering. He silently berated himself for not giving it a go earlier. Acceptance took time.

When he stepped out of the shower, he was as clean as he could get and definitely proud of himself. The warmth and the music had relaxed him pleasantly, and even the citrusy smell of the detergent didn't irk him overmuch. There far worse things one might smell of, and if would wear off soon enough.  
He grabbed a bath-towel from the hanger and started drying himself off. The fabric felt soft, though not remotely as soft or as warm as the witch's hair.  
This time he couldn't blame what happened between them on a bout of PTSD, on a fever, or on weird Sith mind-tricks.  
This time it had been just him, and her, and, gods, he still wanted her so badly, and she wanted him as badly... It was so wonderful, that it was almost overwhelming, scary even.  
And of course he had to chicken out on it...  
Damn it! Why did he have to feel shy just then? She must have felt rejected and furious.  
Gods, life was complicated, but if she could just give him another chance, he would not waste it again with over-thinking and self-doubt. Next time he would make an effort to believe that good things could happen, because some things were worth taking risks for.

Grievous hung the towel back on the rack and went back to the front room.  
Out of the window, the horizon was starting to become silver with the first light of dawn.  
He sat down in the middle of the room, in front of the window and watched the light shift from the same silver of the witch's eyes to a thousand different shades of orange, lillac and pink.  
A new day was dawning, and for once he looked forward to the future it heralded.


	8. The Fine Art of Quick-Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original Star Wars characters. I do own the OCs, though. I do not make a £ from this.
> 
> Warning: bad language, mentions of recreational alcohol and drug use, nudism and some limey bits, plus mentions of suicide and PTSD.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to all that took time to review/follow/fave the last chapters! You are awesome!
> 
> Flame all you want, I'm fireproof.

The night passed in a happy, rather intoxicated blur. Garu didn't remember ever feeling so relaxed and carefree.  
Even queuing outside the entrance, waiting for their turn, had felt like an enjoyable experience. They had chatted, and laughed, and argued about the CIS bolo-ball championship, and finally Lux Bonteri, the party boy, had joined them as they were entering the club, riding a brand new swoop bike that was, most likely, his lifeday present. There had been hugs and introductions all around, and then, finally, they had been allowed in.

Inside, the Rising Sun was as cavernous as a spaceship hangar and apparently that was what it had been until the Raxian Army has decommissioned it.  
There was a long bar, lighted by low, coloured lights, and a huge dance floor with a DJ stall high up above the crowds, where a burly, shirtless, four-armed alien had been busy mixing some space-step tracks, headbanging to himself.  
To one side of the dance-floor there was a cluster of sofas, beanbag chairs and cushions, scattered over a patch of coloured rugs. People were lounging there, protected by some noise dispersers, chatting and drinking and smoking dreamweed. There were even some air-hockey units and some snooker tables, the Neimoidian had noted with satisfaction.

Roghan had paid a first round of drinks for all his men and the Gunners, and then Lux had paid another one for everyone, to celebrate in style. After that, Garu remembered only disconnected scenes, but not how he had transitioned from one to the next.  
He had been playing snooker with Xan, Tulah and Tush, downing one shot of some strong liquor called _raki_ for each ball safely potted, then he had found himself in a mosh pit, while the DJ played some crazy, multi-language punk-folk tune, and then he had been dancing a slow dance with Auray, enjoying her closeness and the movement of her lithe body against his...

And then finally he had found himself almost asleep on one of the beanbags, dazed and giggling at Tulah's jokes.  
The Muun's clear blue eyes were bloodshot with alcohol and dreamweed, and a silly smile was painted on his face. Tush was sprawled on the rug only a couple of steps away, and Van was on one of the sofas, getting handsy with a green-skinned, near-human girl. Of the people he could see, only Nyto seemed marginally sober.  
"Hey, grubs, get up! - Xan exclaimed, smiling from ear to ear and almost bouncing in excitement - Time for a swim!" he added, clapping his hands to rouse them.  
He had been drinking almost as much as Garu and Tulah combined, but that didn't seem to have affected him at all.  
Tulah groaned and rubbed his forehead. "How can you be so disgustingly sober, Red?" he muttered.  
"It's the Twi'lek super-metabolism. - Xan replied, smiling even more widely - Gotta spend a lot more money to get properly trashed."  
"Eh... Lucky you..." Tulah commented, grimacing as he tried to get to his feet.  
"Come on, people! - Xan insisted - You haven't even seen the garden. Come on! It's going to be good fun!"  
Garu climbed to his feet, if only to stop the Twi'lek from bouncing all over the place. A bit of fresh air would do him good.

Slowly, the entire group crawled out of the main hall of the club towards the _dehor_. It was definitely worth the effort, Garu had to admit.  
The night air was still warm, but a lot fresher than in the club, and it smelled like nightly flowers and fresh water. Half-dressed revelers were swaying at the rhythm of chill-out tunes mixed by another DJ, or sitting under a canopy of flowering trees.  
The lake looked huge from there, the dark water lit by moonlight and by some orange-tinged globes floating gently around the garden.  
There was even a second, smaller bar and a stall that handed out space-cloth towels.  
Most people in the garden had stripped to their pants and bras, or were wearing swimsuits, and padded around barefoot and carefree. It looked like the war was light years away from there, even if the base was just on the other side of the lake.  
Garu felt immediately overdressed and strangely out of place with his uniform and boots.

"Nice, innit, grub?" one of the Duros asked him, tapping him lightly on a shoulder and winking.  
Garu had been sitting on the beach and staring at the lake for some time, marveling at the reflection of the lights on the rippling water and at the smoothness of the pebbles of the beach. The Duros might have been standing next to him for a while, but he had not noticed. He was too dazedly happy to notice much.  
"It's absolutely amazing..." Garu admitted, smiling at him.  
The Duros grinned and took off his shirt, crumpling it into a ball and leaving it on a rock next to his drink.  
His trousers followed suit and the grub was left in a pair of dark boxer briefs and a silver chain around his neck.  
Garu stared at him briefly, his face basically at the level of his crotch, then averted his eyes, feeling quite embarrassed and at the same time quite silly about it. It was nothing he had not seen in the changing rooms of the base, even if not so close up. The Duros laughed in embarrassment and stepped back.

Someone yelled, then a big splash was heard. Both Garu and the Duros turned towards the sound.  
"Someone has found the diving platform." the Duros commented.  
A tall, broad-shouldered figure emerged from the water, shaking his head and laughing. It was Van.  
"Hey, bro! - he called out, waving his hand in the air to attract attention - You have to try this! It's totally rad!" he manged to say, before his new-found female companion tackled him, sending him sprawling into the water. The two started tussling playfully, laughing and shouting at each other.  
Garu felt a broad smile blossom on his face and stood up, quickly getting rid of his boots and uniform.  
The night air was rather chilly on his bare skin and he started sobering up almost immediately.  
"How's the water?" he shouted to the people already in.  
"Warmer than outside!" someone shouted back.  
"Well, this solves it." Garu thought, and, taking a deep breath, he ran into the water and dove headfirst into it among a chorus of yells of encouragement.  
Someone pulled out a glow-in-the-dark Frisbee and started throwing it around. Soon a lot of revelers were involved in an improvised game of amphibian ultimate Frisbee, among much splashing, wading and shouting.

When he got out of the water, he was completely sober, but nearly exhausted. He contemplated his uniform for long moments as he stood dripping on the beach, shivering lightly in the cool air, and wished he had had the sense of claiming a towel before he dove in. Now the stall had run out of them. He'd have to stay wet.

"Hey, princeling, do you want to share?" a female voice asked.  
Garu turned towards the sound. Auray was standing a couple of steps away from him with a towel draped on her shoulders. She held it open with her arms, beckoning him in and in doing so she exposed nearly all of herself to his gaze.

She was perfect. Her harmonious features, her big red eyes, the unusual, blue-ish colour of her skin, that came from her Duros father, her lithe figure with those wide hips and small, pert breasts, even the scars acquired in long years of hunting and merc-ing around... everything about her was beautiful and he loved every single detail of it.  
Wearing just a pair of briefs as he was, it was damn hard, literally, for him to disguise the desire he felt for her. He averted his eyes and tried to think about something else, about taxes, about the rubbish dumps below the arch cities in Cato Neimoidia, about the dead, shriveled corpses of the grubs that had not made it out of the hatchery despite their best efforts...

A warm body nestled against his and something soft was draped over his shoulders.  
Garu startled and tried to wriggle free, but Auray didn't let him go.  
"Don't be silly, Garu Cato." she chided him, wrapping her lean and defined arms around his middle and pressing the length of her body against his. "There is no way I can hide it now..." he thought, panicking ever-so-slightly.  
Auray didn't seem offended by his predicament, though. Upon the contrary, she made a low, appreciative murmur and pressed herself even closer to him. The blasted thing, down there, was so happy that it gave a strong twitch. Auray whimpered softly and dug her fingers into his back.  
"I thought... I thought you didn't like me." Garu stammered.  
"You thought wrong." Auray replied, nuzzling her face against his neck.  
"Then what about dinnertime?" Garu managed to ask, hanging onto coherent speech for dear life.  
"This is different. - she retorted - Out here we are not Captain and Lieutenant. We are just us. Equals." she added, holding his gaze with hers.  
Garu nodded, not trusting his words any further.  
"When I make it to the same rank as you, ask me again. - Auray said softly- For now, I cannot reply any other way, no matter what my feelings are." she added softly, tilting her face towards his.  
Garu nodded. What else could he do, faced with so much happiness?  
He brought his face close to hers and captured her lips with his own, trying to put all the desire and the tenderness he felt for her in that kiss, so that she would know how much it meant for him. She kissed him back with equal urgency, cradling his face in her calloused hands. The towel fell to the ground, but Garu didn't mind. Auray was all the warmth he needed in his life.

Without thinking, he bent his knees, placed his hands on her waist and lifted her up. She didn't protest at all, just wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, and kept on kissing him, oblivious of anything else. The increased pressure on his groin was making him feel crazy with lust, and his hands moved to her backside almost instinctively, kneading her firm flesh...

"Find a room, you two!" someone yelled in their vicinity.  
And just like that, the magic of the moment was broken, along with their kiss.  
Garu put Auray back down on the ground and then took a step back, away from her, with the excuse of picking up the fallen towel.  
"Here." he said, handing it to her with a weak smile.  
He felt very embarrassed by his behaviour. He had acted like a sex-crazed maniac, taking undue liberties with her. Auray was a strong advocate of gender equality, and he had to go all alpha male on her... Just perfect...

Auray took the towel with a perplexed expression.  
"What is wrong now?" she asked, crossing her arms below her breasts. Garu's eyes strayed again, and he wished he could slap himself for being so inconsiderate.  
"Nothing." he lied, linking his hands behind his back and shifting his weight to hide his unease.  
"Oh, really? - she asked, waving a finger nearly into his face - Then why did you turn into a bad imitation of Frozen-Fish Dofine?" she asked, mimicking the Commander's rigid, formal stance and inscrutable expression.  
Garu blinked and forced himself to relax his posture. "I am sorry, Auray. I... I shouldn't have treated you like that." he said, shaking his head.  
"Like what?" she asked, frowning.  
"Like, well... like a... like a sexual object. I love you and respect you greatly." he declared, lowering his eyes.  
Auray made a sort of frustrated hiss. "Sometimes I think that the way they educate you upper-class people when you are grubs makes you crazy in the head." she declared.  
"Hey! I am not upper-class!" he objected.  
"But you were raised in the most elite hatchery in Cato, and some of the crazy shit they told you must have stuck." Auray rebutted.  
Garu made to protest, but she didn't leave him enough time to sort his thought out enough to say anything coherent.  
"They aren't big on touching and kissing and stuff like that, the high-ups, are they?" she argued. Garu could only nod.  
"They find it slightly disgusting, eh? Too lowly for the likes of them?" she continued. Garu nodded again.  
Auray paused and slowly extended a hand towards his face, hesitating briefly before she made contact with his skin. Garu made a small sound low in his throat and leaned into her touch, then picked up her hand and kissed her palm.  
"What we did before, were you disgusted by it?" she asked softly.  
"Gods, no! - he replied - It was amazing, but I didn't want to humiliate you. I mean, we were in public and I don't want anyone to think that..." he tried to explain.  
"That I am an easy woman?" she concluded for him.  
"Yes. Well, no... - he stammered - Men have urges, and everyone knows, but women... I... I didn't want to disrespect you, or put you in an uncomfortable position." he said.  
Auray smiled wearily. "You are so sweet, even if you are all messed up. - she said softly - OK, gender equality lesson 101: women are sexual creatures as much as men are. We feel physical desire as much as you guys do. And if you had not noticed, I really wanted to jump your bones." she added with a grin.  
"I had noticed..." Garu admitted, smiling with a certain pride. It was nice to know it.  
"I am glad you did. - she continued - Desire is a natural need, I mean, like hunger and thirst, and if consenting adults decide to act on it, I can't see why it should be considered more wrong or disgusting than eating or drinking. At least in theory, a good kriff should not humiliate anyone." she continued with certainty.  
"Yes, but..." Garu tried to but in, but she blocked him again.  
"No buts, Garu. - she chided him - Showing affection or making love to the person you love should be a very beautiful thing, something precious, and should not make you feel bad, guilty, or sullied. It should make you feel happy, and loved. Sure it made me..." she added gently, embracing him once more and laying her head on his shoulder. Garu sighed in bliss at the renewed contact and wrapped his arms around her.  
"I want to be with you, in all ways. - Auray said - And if people think I am a slut for it, it's their problem, not ours. We only have a problem if you think that." she added.  
"I would never. - Garu replied - You are the most beautiful thing in my life. You are my lady." he declared.  
Auray kissed him briefly and smiled. "Don't try to put me on a pedestal. - she warned - I am real, I am flesh and blood. And I want you." she added.  
"That I will not forget so soon. - Garu promised, kissing her in turn - As for the rest... It's weird how some things stick with you even if you don't want them." he added pensively.  
Auray nodded quietly and hugged him closer.  
"I envy Van for how he has managed to get rid of that life completely." Garu whispered, turning his head towards the beach, where his brother was still playing with his temporary girlfriend. Garu highly doubted they would last much more than a night, but Van didn't seem to care, and happily immersed himself into this new experience, without reserves or expectations. One night, one lifetime, it didn't matter to him.

Van was a mess, he thought fondly. He drank too much, swore a lot, picked fights, listened to loud music, and slept around with anything sentient that fancied him, no matter the species, or even the gender, at times. He lived however it pleased him, no holds barred. For him life was eternally fun, a perpetual adventure, and Leth was like him, even if less chaotic and extreme.  
Garu instead, felt like there was always something that held him back, that made him the one on the outside looking in, and he didn't mean just the remnants of his uptight, upper-class education.  
Ever since he remembered, he had always looked after those two and their sister Yeru, he had always been the responsible person, the one who made sure that there was an escape plan or possibly two, that there was food to eat and a shelter to rest.  
It had been him to organize their quiet rebellion in the hatchery.  
It was still him who organized things for the Gunners.  
It made it hard for him to enjoy himself completely, as he was perennially watching out for danger and trying to make sure that he could save everyone.  
That night, it was as if his curse had been temporarily lifted, at least for a while, and he had had his share of irresponsible fun, but now... would he be able to relax back to that state and enjoy the rest of the night?

"You are worrying too much again, aren't you?" Auray asked.  
Garu hesitated, thought about lying, and finally nodded.  
"I am worrying about the fact that I worry too much." he admitted, only half in jest.  
"Meta-worries... Wow! I didn't even know you could have them. - she commented, shaking her head - Relax, Garu... There is nothing to worry about, now." she whispered, letting her fingertips glide from the back of his head down, along his neck and his back.  
Garu shuddered in pleasure, feeling his knees weaken and his thoughts go fuzzy for a moment.  
"Oh, it looks like I've found your off-button..." Auray declared smugly, nibbling his jaw.  
His knees wobbled again. "If you keep at it, I'll melt in a puddle." he managed to say.  
"And why would that be bad?" she whispered, fingers trailing up and down again, light as a feather.  
"Uh... Can't remember..." Garu moaned, leaning more of his weight on her.  
"You look very cute when you relax. - Auray commented - You should do it more often."  
"Will try... If you help me." he declared.  
"Of course I will help you. I will always watch your back, princeling. - she said, kissing him again - Will you dance with me, now?" she asked, nodding towards the dance floor.  
"Of course. - Garu replied, smiling like an idiot - Let me just put some clothes back on."  
Auray shook her head. "No clothes." she said firmly.  
He gaped at her for a moment. "But... I mean..." he spluttered.  
"Look around. - she encouraged him - No one will say anything. No one will care." she said, gesturing towards all the other half-naked couples that swayed on the dance-floor.  
Garu looked at them, at how utterly un-self-conscious they looked. It was as if exposing their body for all to see was innocent and natural, a concept utterly removed from what he had been told during his childhood. He liked that, at least enough to give it a try.  
"Alright." he agreed, and let Auray lead him by the hand to the edge of the dancing floor.  
She started dancing, supremely unconcerned about anything that was not the music. For a moment he looked at her in amazement, then joined her, moving awkwardly at first and then gradually relaxing into the rhythm. Auray smiled and took his hand. In that moment, the claustrophobic social rules of his birth caste couldn't be more far from his mind.

They watched the sunrise sitting on the beach. By that time, only the most hardcore of the group were left.  
Nyto had been the first to leave, quitting before two to go back to the base and have some sleep. He had managed to secure a spot to assist the resident trauma surgeon in a bone-reconstruction operation at nine and didn't want to mess his chance up. No one had had the courage to make jokes about his early defection. All the Gunners knew how important it was to him, and ultimately to them, to be honest, that he finally became a true, certified combat medic.  
Roghan and most of the Iotrans, apart from the youngest ones, had left around four, tired and totally pissed.  
Tulah had remained, instead, and, at that point, Garu was quite glad that he had. He was starting to appreciate the Muun's sharp wit and sarcasm, especially when it was not directed at him.  
Van's new girlfriend had remained as well. Her name was Nimah and she was a freelance HoloNet designer. She seemed alright, fun-loving and a bit crazy in the same happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care way as Van. They looked like a good match, for however long it may last.  
Most of the Raxian Volunteers had remained as well, and were lounging around the beach and the surrounding rocks in various states of more or less complete consciousness.

The booze had finally caught up with Xan, who now looked completely plastered and barely able to keep his eyes open. He had laid his head on Hardy's lap and the Zabrak girl was intent at stroking his lekkus with a loving expression that left little doubt about their relationship.  
Cradling Auray against his chest, Garu gave the Twi'lek a knowing wink, in response to which Xan smiled lazily.

"Hey, mate! Weren't you supposed to have been friendzoned too?" Tulah asked, wrinkles furrowing his enormous forehead as he frowned.  
"Eh, what can I say? It looks like I haven't. I still can't believe it." Garu replied cheerfully  
Auray chortled under her breath. "So friendly that you are discussing girls already?" she intervened.  
The Muun shook his head. "We were sharing our feelings. - he replied - It's not very macho, but we are modern men..."  
"So sad that you two cannot grow a beard, then..." Auray commented.  
"Yeah, that would have cemented the idea. - Tulah replied - Maybe I should get a fake one... Do you think girls would like me better?" he joked.  
His proposal was saluted by a chorus of "No!", "Please, No!" and "Hell, No!".  
Tulah laughed heartily. "I'll resign myself to bachelorhood, then." he commented with a shrug.  
"Maybe you can write sad songs about your shattered heart. - Nesh proposed - That gets girls out of their pants faster than you can say songwriter."  
"Unless it's you singing. - Atinay retorted - Then it just gets them running to the hills!"  
Nesh's expression shifted to wounded pride and shock for a moment, then he burst out laughing, soon followed by the rest of the company.

Tulah smiled weakly, looking at the sky as it got clearer on the horizon, then took his comm out of his pocket. It was one of those hi-tech things that looked more like small, hand-held terminals than proper comms and must have cost a bundle.  
He tapped on it with a faraway but determined expression. It took a moment for Garu to realise what was happening.  
"Tulah! No! Don't do it!" he exclaimed, trying to reach for the comm, but Tulah leaned back and got it out of harm's way.  
"You can't call your ex when you're drunk. You'll make things worse!" Garu added with urgency.  
A few people from the group added their voices to his plea, but Tulah didn't seem to get the message.  
"Well, his loss..." Garu thought, shaking his head.  
"Hey, calm down! If she has a thing for lost puppies and a lot of compassion it might work." Linlin chimed in.  
"She's a cybernetic reconstructions surgeon. - Tulah replied - Loves to put broken things back together."  
"You got a chance, then." Linlin replied, patting him on the back.  
On the other end, someone picked up the call and everyone who was still paying attention fell silent.

"Hello! Aalyah seh Sekhem speaking!" a husky, accented female voice said. Garu twisted and leaned over so that he could see her face in the touchscreen.  
It was sunny on the other side, and Aalyah was sitting in a small, whitewashed and haphazardly furnished room crammed with datacrystal holders, diagrams and anatomical models. She was dressed in a blue tunic and her dark hair was bound in cornrows and also streaked through with blue. Her skin was a shade of purplish-brown so dark to seem black, and covered in scales. Garu held his breath as he realized where he had seen that weird combination of reptilian and humanoid features. She was from the same species as General Grievous.

"Hey, Dancer..." Tulah replied with a soft smile.  
The girl's face was half-obscured by a blue veil, but surprise was evident in the widening of her greenish, slit-pupil eyes.  
"Tulah! It's good to see you..." she exclaimed, her voice going all mellow and soft. She smiled under her veil and it didn't look much like the smile you would give a friend. It was shot through with longing and affection in a way that belied the supposed friendzoning.  
"Guess where I am." Tulah said.  
"Don't know. Scipio? Muunlinst?" the girl shot.  
"Wrong and wrong. Guess again." Tulah chided gently.  
"Mandalore?" she tried again.  
Tulah shook his head. "Still no. - he replied - I am on Raxus, at the Rising Sun. - Tulah continued - It is summer, and the sun is rising... I wish you were here." he added in a small, soft voice.  
"Oh... - she said, blinking furiously, as if she was fighting back tears - Will you say hello to the sun for me?" Aalyah asked.  
"I'll do better... Much better." he retorted. He stood up to his full height and padded to the edge of the beach, turning the comm towards the horizon and raising it above his head, and stood there with his head thrown back, taking in the first light of the not-yet-risen sun. It seemed a solemn moment, almost a ritual. As far as Garu knew, the Muun were not sun-worshippers. It could have been something borrowed from the girl's culture, he thought, but then all the Raxians got to their feet as well.

"Come on, grubs." the Duros with the silver chain exhorted them, nearly picking Garu up bodily.  
In the end, they all stood before the silver sky, and when the first bloom of pink and orange appeared on the horizon, from the DJ console they started playing a soft, uplifting tune.  
"Good morning Raxus! Stand up for me, proud citizens of the CIS! - the DJ exclaimed - The sun is rising! Another day is dawning! And we are still free!" he shouted, doing something to the music so that it rose in a crescendo with the sun, and when it finally appeared on the horizon, gold and blazing, the bass dropped so low that Garu could feel it vibrating through his bones more than he could hear it.

The crowd exploded in a cheer. People were jumping, and hugging each other, some where even crying, and even Garu felt a shiver of something run through him.  
Freedom, solidarity and the grandiose spectacle of the rising sun... it was a much more intoxicating brew than _raki_.  
The fear that all of it would come crashing down on them, that they would lose it all, was nagging at him already, but he kept it at bay. He wanted to hold on to that perfect moment, to Auray, to his new-found friends, to happiness and respect for as long as he could.

Slowly, the tumult died down and Tulah brought his comm back down to face him. He said something quietly to his ex and ended the call, but that bittersweet smile didn't disappear from his face.  
"That didn't look a lot like friendzoning either..." Garu commented, elbowing him in the ribs.  
Tulah shrugged. "We are more like in limbo, as they say. - he replied, unusually subdued, as he gathered his clothes to get dressed - We agreed to have a clean break when she quit her job on Mandalore. Back then, we could still see each other sometimes, but then she went back home to open a field hospital, or something like that, and that was it."  
"Why? Did she have to marry someone from her people?" Garu asked.  
Tulah shook his head. "Girls down there don't have to marry anyone, if they don't want to. - he explained - It is just that I had my job on Muunlinst, and I could not quit. It's funny because her place it nearly next door to Munnlinst, but the hyperspace routes are crap and... well, it was hard." he added with a wry smile.  
Garu slipped his trousers back on and nodded. "Still is, I bet." he commented.  
"Yeah... - the Muun sighed - We were good together. Could have been even better in the long-term. And we can't let go, even if we should." he explained in a pained voice.  
Garu was going to offer some more sympathy, when his comm went off. He considered letting it ring and not picking it up, but, apart from the people still at the club with him, the only ones who had his contact were Nyto, Tranh, Commander Ventress and the General. In any case, it would be important.

"Garu! Come here, quick! Tranh is trying to jump!" yelled Nyto as soon as he picked up the call.  
Tired and hungover as he was, it took him a few moments more than usual to click on the meaning of the medic's words.  
"Tranh?! Jump?! - he repeated like an idiot - Shit!" he exclaimed finally, and immediately started too look around for a quick way out of there and back to the base.  
"I'm on the roof with him, but you are the Captain. I need you to help me calm him down!" Nyto urged.  
"Damn! Damn! DAMN!" Garu thought. Even running at the top of his speed, it would take him more than twenty-five standard minutes to get back and even if he could borrow the truck from the Raxians, he would have to deal with the horrific traffic jam that would arise in front of the club as everybody tried to leave.  
"Lux! - he called out, hoping that the birthday boy would still be within hearing range - Lux Bonteri!"  
A hand waved from the Raxian crowd and the kid pushed his way towards him.  
"I'm here. - he said - What's the matter?"  
"There is an emergency. - Garu explained as he put his shirt and jacket on as quickly as he could - I need you to give me a ride to the base, as fast as you can."  
Lux nodded. "'Course I will." he replied  
"What's happened?" Auray asked, seeing his agitation.  
"It's Tranh. He's having a breakdown." Garu explained.  
"Crap! - she exclaimed - You go ahead, I'll organize the others and follow you ASAP." she added, immediately switching to operative mode. How could he not love a woman like her?

"Come on, man!" Lux urged, infected by his anxiety. Garu had barely enough time to lace his boots before the human grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards the crowded parking lot.  
Lux kicked the swoop into gear and revved up the engine, motioning for Garu to climb up on the saddle behind him, but there was barely enough space to take off.  
Garu cursed and started fidgeting, but Lux forced him still with a hand, then stood on the pedals and yelled.  
"Oi! Citizens! Make way! - he shouted - This is a military emergency!"  
Some people instinctively got out of the way, but some yelled back, clearly not believing a word of it.  
Garu stood up as well, balancing precariously on the footrests.  
"It's true! - he yelled - One of my best friends, a veteran from the Neimoidian Gunners like me, is in need of assistance at the base. Please! Let us take off! We'll be out of the way in a moment!" he implored.  
Maybe they believed him, or maybe they just didn't have the strength to argue. What mattered was that they cleared a space and now the swoop had a clear path to take off.  
"Hold tight, Captain!" Lux exclaimed, grinning like a maniac. Garu nodded and latched on to the handholds with a white-knuckled grip.  
The swoop rose into the air at breakneck speed and Garu let out a not-entirely-manly scream. The wind whistled in his ears and trees, posts... _things_ hurtled past him in a whizz.  
Garu forced himself to stay calm, but Lux seemed to be enjoying himself. He pointed the infernal machine straight towards the base, racing across the lake and towards the bolo-ball pitch.  
"Security will shoot us down!" Garu yelled, trying to make himself heard over the rush of the air and the noise of the engines.  
"Nah... People do this all the time. It's alright." Lux retorted, half-turning towards him.  
"Eyes on the road!" Garu exclaimed, feeling his insides twist with fear.  
The swoop continued on his course, and obviously, seeing them approach without clearance or even identification, several military police officers came swarming out of one of the buildings. Thankfully they were not droids, otherwise they would have already been riddled with blaster bolts, but as soon as they touched the ground on the bolo-ball pitch, they found themselves surrounded by six unfamiliar, unfriendly faces and blaster barrels.

"It's alright, citizens! - Lux said, raising his hands above his head but sporting a confident smile on his face - We are both soldiers from this base, like you. This is an emergency." he added calmly, and with a confidence that Garu didn't share at all.  
"Sure thing, punks. Tell that to the chief of security, for starters..." one of the policemen said, motioning for them to move away from the swoop with the tip of his blaster.  
Garu felt a wave of frustration rise within him. He was so close... And yet he would never reach the hospital wing in time to help Tranh if those blockheads arrested him.  
"Listen, comrades, I don't want to cause any trouble. - he started - I am Captain Garu Cato of the 15th Squadron of the Neimoidian Gunnery Batallion. We are here under the personal command of General Grievous. One of my men is in the hospital, fighting against a PTSD attack. He needs me _now._ I don't have time for this shit, understand?" he added, quietly but decisively.  
"I don't care who you are or pretend to be. - the officer said - You breached the safety protocol. Now choose: you can come quietly, or I can pump you full of enough stun gas to make you sleep for a week. Understood, _Captain_?" he added, with wicked satisfaction.  
Garu felt the impulse to attack him, but there were too many of them. Even if he took out the son of a gun, the others would drop him and Lux. It would be totally pointless.  
"I'd like to see you explain to the General why he lost one of his men..." Garu said, shooting the policeman a dirty, threatening look even as he linked his hands behind his head and took a step away from the vehicle.  
"The General is not here, smartass. - the policeman said, poking him in the kidneys with his blaster - And even if he were, I doubt he would care two decicreds about a pair of Neimoidian faggots like and your nutjob friend." he added.  
Garu stiffened in shame and surprise. With the nice treatment they had received in the last week, he had already grown unused to being insulted and humiliated.  
"Homophobia and speciesism in the same sentence... Congratulations... - Lux mocked - You are the shame of the CIS, officer!" he added, indignant.  
"Shut the fuck up, punk!" one of the other officers ordered, hitting the boy in the back with the stock of his blaster. Lux cried out and fell to his knees on the floor.  
"On your feet, little shit!" the officer barked. Lux dragged himself back up and was pushed into motion after Garu, hands still raised above his head.  
"I am so sorry... I didn't imagine... - the boy said, as they were marched away from the pitch - It has never been like this, before... These guys must be new."  
"Shut it! Or I'll make you!" one of the guards threatened.  
Garu ground his teeth together, willing himself not to react. These six acted like they would love an opportunity to kick the crap out of the two of them.  
As rescue attempts went, that couldn't have gone worse.

By the time the sun had fully risen, Grievous had already started to feel restless. There were still a lot of hours to while away before he could meet with the witch at four, and, in the meantime, he had nothing pressing to do.  
Not his favourite situation, but at least the sun was shining and he had the Gunners to check on. In the worst case scenario, he could borrow a bike and go off to explore the area around the base.  
Speaking of what, a swoop bike was making a daring entrance into the perimeter from the lake. Some late-night revelers speeding back to their stations before the roll was called, Grievous thought, but some instinct told him that it wasn't as easy as that.  
Some military police officials immediately surrounded the two helmet-less riders, confronting them with leveled blasters and an aggressive attitude. The two intruders seemed to be arguing with the officers, maybe trying to explain themselves.  
Intrigued, Grievous looked more closely at the scene. One of the intruders was a human boy dressed in rumpled clothes that must have been fancy, almost formal, to begin with. The other, instead was one of his Neimoidians, possibly even the Captain.  
An alarm went off in his mind. As far as he knew the lad, Garu Cato was altogether too responsible to do something like that just for a lark. He had the feeling that there was some urgent matter at hand.  
Out of the window, he saw one of the police officers hit the human boy and threaten both, even though they were unarmed and collaborating. Time to see what was actually going on in there, Grievous decided.  
Pausing only to grab his cloak from the table and recall the layout of the floor, the cyborg shot out of the flat and reached a communal verandah a few doors down from his.  
A few high officers were already having breakfast or a cigarette at the plasteel tables scattered around, and gaped when they saw Grievous run across the tiled floor and leap over the rail. They were only one story up, some ten feet from the ground.  
Grievous landed in a crouch, threw himself into a roll and was back on his feet without a single twinge of his integrity sensors. He promptly started running again, planning his trajectory so that he would intercept the military police in three... two... one...  
He turned a sharp corner and sunk his talons in the grass to stop more quickly. The leading officer of the group was no more than a foot or two away, and didn't look any happy about seeing him appear in front of him all of a sudden.

"What is going on here?" Grievous asked, straightening to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest.  
The officer gulped and cast a nervous look to his comrades and to the prisoners.  
"We are bringing two spies in for questioning." he finally replied. To his credit, his voice didn't waver too much.  
"Spies? Hardly. - Grievous retorted dismissively - I know that man, he is a loyal soldier. I will vouch for him." he added, pointing at Garu, who beamed.  
"I just have one question: what the hell were you thinking, to make that entrance, Captain Garu Cato?" Grievous continued, narrowing his eyes.  
"I am sorry, sir, but it is an emergency! - the Neimoidian replied, evidently anxious - I had to travel fast. Tranh is having a breakdown. He is on the roof of the hospital." he explained, speaking fast and jerking his head in the direction of his target.  
"A breakdown?" Grievous repeated.  
Garu nodded solemnly, echoed by the human boy, who looked awed and terrified at the same time.  
"And did you tell these people?" Grievous asked.  
The two nodded again.  
"They said you wouldn't care, sir." the human boy said.  
Grievous scowled.  
"They were wrong." he said and turned towards the military police officials with a glower. He grabbed the closest one by the scruff of the neck, lifting him off the ground like an unruly puppy. The man's eyes nearly popped out of his face in terror and his comrades took a cautious step back.  
Grievous sneered, or nearly so, under his mask.  
"Listen to me, you arse-sniffers! - he growled - These are my men. Not spies. Not traitors. You will let them go, understood?" he added, shaking the man lightly. The MP nearly wet himself in fright and nodded frantically.  
Grievous snorted in contempt and let go of that nasty piece of work. He and his comrades had acted tough enough when they had been six and armed against two unarmed opponents, but now they nearly tripped on their own feet in their haste to run away.  
Useless, cowardly garbage, Grievous thought. Dooku had made a mistake when he had ordered the constitution of that unit.  
He realized that the CIS needed to defend itself against possible treason and infiltration of Republican elements, but the Military Police seemed to have attracted all the most arrogant, bullying, narrow-minded and petty bastards of the entire Galaxy. Their leaders, in particular were a bunch of rabid vultures. There would be trouble ahead, he knew, but at the moment he didn't care. There were more pressing matters at hand.

"Don't do this again, you two." he scolded, casting a glance at Captain Garu and his companion. They both nodded once more, and looked like they were going to thank him, but Grievous stopped them with a raised hand.  
"You can thank me later. Let's get a move now!" he ordered, and set off at a trotting run towards the hospital building. The two ran after him, keeping apace without questions or objections.

Around the hospital, a few passer-bys had noticed the commotion on the roof and were looking up with interest and worry, but no emergency response had been mounted yet.  
Grievous felt torn between relief and worry. It would be easier to keep everything under wraps, that way, but there would be no fail-safe in case they didn't manage to calm the boy down. Damn...  
The cyborg decided not to think about it, and slowed down as he entered the packed lobby of the hospital. The crowd of patients and visitors in front of the elevators was too big for them to be able to cut through, and he was sure that they would protest and get in the way if he tried to commandeer one of the lifts. A week before he wouldn't have cared, but now...  
Stairs it would be.  
The odd trio started to run again, dodging people all across the hall, angling themselves towards the nearest stairwell.  
The receptionist, an elderly human lady in a maroon hospital uniform, made a gesture as if to try and stop them, but caught his eye and desisted, shaking her head.  
They went up the main stairs almost unimpeded. Placards placed in the landings informed them of which wards were located at each floor.  
At the fifth floor, Grievous recognized the name of the ward where the witch was staying.  
Yes, the witch. She could use some mind-trick to calm Tranh down, if need be, he thought.  
The cyborg slowed down a fraction.  
"You, kid! What's your name?" he asked, turning his head to the human boy who had followed Captain Garu. He had never seen him before, but he looked familiar.  
"Lux... - the boy panted - Cadet Lux Bonteri, sir."  
The name was familiar as well, but he couldn't quite place it. Nevermind, he told himself.  
"Go to the Maladi ward and fetch Commander Ventress. - Grievous ordered - Get her to the roof as fast as you can."  
"Yessir!" the boy exclaimed, and put in another burst of speed, turning into the corridor beyond the double doors at full tilt and nearly bowling over a nurse and a couple of medical droids.

By the time they reached the roof, Captain Garu was panting heavily and holding to the handrail for support.  
"I'm alright, sir. - he gasped - Let's go."  
Grievous acknowledged his words with a nod and opened the service door to the roof, stepping out onto the insulation-coated surface.  
Tranh was standing near the edge, up on the raised border that overlooked the twelve-story drop. Nyto was a few steps away, arms raised in conciliation. Tranh seemed to be totally absorbed by the confrontation with the medic, so that Grievous and Garu could approach quietly, under the cover of the elevator box.

"I can't go back to Deko, I can't!" Tranh was saying, tears streaming down his gaunt face.  
"Why should they send you back, brother? Here things are different!" Nyto retorted.  
"You know it's not the truth! - Tranh exploded - I remember what happened to Stett when he got injured! I am broken! They have no further use for me! They will discard me, exactly like they discarded him! I am finished!" he shouted.  
"You are not useless! And you are not finished!" Nyto shouted back.  
"Not finished, eh?! - Tranh cried, thrusting his mutilated arm in front of him - I cannot fight like this! Hell, I cannot even clean toilets like I used to! I am done!" he declared.  
"It's not the end, Tranh. - Nyto reassured - They'll give you a pension..."  
"Fuck their pension! - Tranh exploded - I want my life back! You are my family, lot of poxy bastards that you are! With you, I counted for something! I was part of something! I can't go back to the slums! I can't return to nothingness!" he added, his thin shoulders shaken by sobs.

For an instant, Grievous clearly remembered his cousin Ummar.  
After the war he had just lain on his bed for hours and hours, eyes empty and looking into the distance.  
He had been one of the most brave and feared warriors of their clan, one of Grievous' hand-picked commanders, and the best explosive expert in the army, but then that cursed Jedi cut off his hands, and he had become nothing more than an invalid, incapable even of eating or wiping his own arse without assistance. Cybernetic prostheses had been almost impossible to acquire at the time, with the sanctions and the embargo.  
Unable to cope with what he had become, Ummar had pleaded for death time and time again... It had been his wife who had fought to keep him alive, until finally one day someone found the means to fix him.  
Grievous still remembered the joy on his cousin's face when he had held a sword in his new hands for the first time.  
There were no worse feelings than hopelessness and helplessness, he knew it well. But things could be fixed. They would be fixed.

"Tranh, listen to me! - Garu intervened, stepping into the light - We won't let anyone dismiss you. We'll put together a subscription and pay for your reconstructive surgery. And when you have your new hand, we'll fight together again. Side by side, like brothers." he promised, talking slowly and clearly, hands half-raised in front of him.  
That seemed to calm the boy down. At least it stopped his sobs.  
"I will not abandon you. - Garu added, coming closer and extending a hand towards him in an attempt to lead him away from the drop - We won't abandon you. Money is not an issue. We'll figure out something, get a loan from a bank. No matter what, we'll have you back." he declared, then half-turned towards Grievous, who had not yet revealed himself.  
"Right, sir? - he asked - If we can find the money to get Tranh fixed, you will reintegrate him in the unit, won't you?" he added with an air of forced confidence, belied by the pleading look in his eyes.  
Grievous looked at him in total confusion for a moment. Subscription? Money?  
"What the hell are you talking about, Captain Garu? - he protested - Of course Private Tranh will be reintegrated in the ranks!" he hastened to add, seeing an expression of barely contained panic wash over the Captain's features.  
Still confused, Grievous stepped forward, into the line of sight of all the actors in that strange drama.  
"Listen up, lad. There is no reason why you should be dismissed from the army. - he told the bewildered Private, feeling rather silly at stating such an obvious concept - You have shown bravery and initiative in the face of danger. Without your quick thinking and determination, we wouldn't have managed to help Commander Ventress on the Fortressa. Even your wound was not your fault, but was caused by the criminal negligence of the suppliers!" he enumerated and the lad's expression slowly lost that air of desperation.  
"See, Tranh?! - Garu chimed in, grinning widely - I told you! It's going to be alright! Now come! Come to us, brother!" he entreated, stretching his hand further towards Tranh.  
The lad grabbed it with his remaining hand and squeezed it tightly, then slowly stepped away from the edge.  
"Yes, just like that." Garu encouraged him, moving one step back. Tranh followed him, then shot forward and enveloped Garu in a bear hug, promptly starting to sob convulsively with his face pressed against the Captain's shoulder.  
Garu froze for a moment, possibly squeezed out of breath, then returned the hug with unexpected tenderness.  
"It's fine, Tranh. You're safe. - he reassured his subordinate - We'll sue the money for your new hand out of the supply company. It's going to be all fine..." he added.  
Nyto stepped close to them and awkwardly patted Tranh on the back. He caught Grievous' eye and gave him an embarrassed smile.  
"Awkward..." the medic mouthed, and Grievous had to make an effort not to laugh. Thankfully he wasn't expected to join in the hug-fest.

"And what if they don't cough up the money, Cap? What do we do, then?" Tranh managed to ask, between sobs.  
"We'll figure something out, brother. Don't worry about the money now." Garu replied gently.  
Grievous frowned again in confusion.  
"What is all this nonsense about money?" he asked, a bit more harshly than he had intended.  
Garu raised his head towards him. "It's for Tranh's reconstructive surgery, sir. The emergency cash pot of our unit doesn't stretch so far. - he explained - But we'll raise the funds somehow." he added with quiet determination.  
Grievous blinked a couple of times. "Do you expect to be paying for that out of your own pockets?" he asked.  
"Well, yes. Of course... - Tranh intervened - It's my hand. Who else should pay for that? I don't even have a medical insurance, and even if I had one, battle-wounds are not covered anyway. And for the high-ups it would be less expensive to recruit a new Gunner than to fix me." he added, hanging his head in shame.  
"The CIS Army will pay for that! - Grievous retorted - You got wounded in the line of duty, working for us. It is our duty to fix you!" he exclaimed, wishing he could harm someone, preferably someone involved in that travesty.  
"Who could be such a sick bastard to abandon wounded veterans without assistance because it is too expensive?!" he added, fearing that he already knew answer.  
"Gunray and his cronies. Who else?" a female voice replied.

Grievous turned on the spot.  
The witch was stalking towards them, trailed by a pale and exhausted Cadet Bonteri.  
She was still wearing the same clothes she had worn the previous night, and her fuzzy hair seemed even fuzzier under the sunlight, but two lightsabers hung from her belt and her carriage was proud and dominant. Soft like the light of dawn and hard as steel. So beautiful...

Grievous linked his hands behind his back and stuck his talons in the surface of the roof to prevent himself from moving towards her and making a fool of himself in front of the lads. She was bound to be still peeved with him, he judged.  
"It looks like you boys managed to solve everything without my assistance." she commented calmly, not even deigning Grievous of a glance.  
The three Neimoidians assented.  
"We are sorry about having disturbed you, Commander." Garu said, taking the blame.  
The witch considered him briefly with an imperscrutable gaze.  
"It's my fault Commander. - Grievous found himself blurting out, suddenly anxious and awkward - I sent Cadet Bonteri to bring you here."  
Asajj Ventress turned towards him with deliberate calm, her eyes like a silver mirror.  
"No harm done, this time. - she conceded with a slight nod - I was itching for an excuse to get out of that ward." she admitted.  
Grievous sighed in relief. She couldn't be too pissed off then.

A shrill sound interrupted the short moment of silence.  
"It's my comm." Garu explained, colouring up in embarrassment.  
"Well, take the call." Asajj told him.  
Garu cast the briefest glance to the General, who shrugged.  
The Captain picked up the call.  
"It's Lieutenant Auray. - he announced - They are out there." he added with a certain air of surprise, nodding towards the edge of the roof.  
Grievous and Ventress moved towards it and looked down.

A couple of big trucks were parked just off the hospital entrance on the esplanade. A mixture of people in uniforms and civilian clothes was hurrying around with purpose and determination. Grievous could see most of the Gunners among them, but also a lot of people he had never seen before in his life.  
Someone had planted a few red-and-white health and safety signs and the zone was being cordoned off by a group of Raxian Volunteers. A giant inflatable crash pad had appeared at the base of the building, pulled out of gods-knew-where, and a red-skinned Twi'lek lad was shouting through a loudspeaker.  
"This is a safety drill! Please leave the area free for the personnel involved. - he was saying, brazenly lying - I repeat! This is a safety drill! There is nothing to worry about! Please clear the area!"

"Who the hell are these people with the trucks?" Grievous asked, utterly surprised.  
"Eh... Friends I guess. - Garu explained, growing bright green in embarrassment - We were at the club on the other side of the lake together when I got the news." he added.  
"How long did they have to organize this entire circus?" Asajj continued, quirking an eyebrow, her eyes shining with interest.  
"About half an hour?" Garu hypothesized with a strained smile playing on his lip-less mouth.  
The witch whistled and cast a sidelong glance at Grievous. He met her eyes, and a flash of understanding passed between them. If they were to form a battle unit of organic troops, this was the sort of quick-thinking and initiative they were looking for.  
Warmed by that moment of synchronicity, Grievous allowed himself an almost-smile.  
"You can tell them to put their things away, now. - he told Garu - There is no further risk of anyone taking a plunge now, is there?" he added, shifting his gaze towards Tranh.  
Tranh shook his head vigorously. "No, sir. None whatsoever." he replied, sounding a lot calmer.

Garu spoke into the comm and down on the esplanade the commotion jerked to a halt as Lieutenant Auray relied the instructions to the red-skinned Twi'lek and to a few other people.  
"Alright, citizens! The drill is over! - the Twi'lek yelled into the loudspeaker - Thank you for your cooperation! Long live the CIS! Long live freedom!" he concluded, raising his left fist in the air.  
Grievous shook his head in disbelief. These Raxians... either they were too naive for their own good, or they had understood something that no one else had.  
"Tell your friends to stay, Captain. - he ordered - I would like to speak to them."  
"Yes. I would like that too." Asajj concurred, stepping away from the edge.  
Garu acquiesced again and spoke into the comm some more.  
"They will be waiting downstairs, sirs." he confirmed.  
"Good. - Grievous commented - Now Tranh, you go back to your ward and rest. You, Nyto, find a surgeon to fix him ASAP. If they resist, send them to talk to me." he instructed. The medic nodded and brought his fist across his chest.  
"Right away, sir!" he acknowledged.  
"You two, instead, come with us downstairs." Grievous continued, pointing towards Garu and Cadet Bonteri, who also bowed and nodded.

The witch led the way back into the building. They all followed suit and Grievous had to concentrate very hard to keep his eyes from straying over her almost totally bare legs.  
The witch stopped on the landing and pressed the elevator button.  
"You can go back down on foot, if you want. There is no way I am walking down 12 flights of stairs with this. - she declared, gesturing towards her still-bandaged leg - It is already sore enough from running up here." she added. Grievous felt like cringing in guilt, but forced himself to remain impassive.

The elevator was empty when they boarded it.  
Much to their irritation, the blasted thing stopped at every floor, and every time it was the same pantomime: the people waiting for it would take a step in, see who was in there and step back with expressions of either awe or terror, or sometimes both.  
By the time Nyto and Tranh left them at the eight floor, Grievous was seriously considering telling the next lot that he didn't usually kill people so early in the morning, but if they didn't get in the kriffing elevator, he would make an exception.  
He restrained himself, though, even if barely, and expressed his irritation only with a rumbling growl.  
The witch, who was standing at his side, close enough for him to feel her presence, but not quite touching him, sniggered under her breath.  
Grievous shot her a dark look, which only made her chuckle more.  
"That's not going to make you look any less intimidating..." she whispered, so quietly that even his sensors struggled to pick it up.  
He did not reply, knowing that his quietest would still be loud enough for the lads to overhear.

Thankfully they were soon out of that bloody metal box, and the crowd in front of the lifts on the ground floor respectfully parted in front of the four of them with a chorus of hushed murmurs.  
Grievous pretended that he couldn't hear them and walked out of the lobby at a brisk pace, without looking at anyone in particular.  
On the esplanade, the Gunners and their assorted friends had assembled in parade formation next to the trucks.  
"Fifteenth Gunners! Attention!" Auray yelled.  
"Raxian Volunteers! Attention!" the red-skinned Twi'lek echoed.  
"IGBC Security and Collections! Attention!" a third, strangely familiar, voice added.  
Everyone snapped into a salute, some more crisply than others, but all with undeniable enthusiasm.  
Grievous felt his mood lift immediately at the sight.  
Droids stood straighter in formation, and their ranks were impressively, geometrically precise, but they were programmed to do so. The soldiers arrayed in front of him were there out of their own volition, to help a fiend, a comrade, and they stood proud of what they were and of what they had done.  
Grievous stalked in front of them as if that was a troop review, and the witch fell in step with him as Garu swapped places with Auray and Cadet Bonteri slipped in position within the ranks.  
There were humans and Neimoidians, Duros and Zabrak, Twi'lek and Rodians, Iotrans and Devaronians, a couple of Faleen, and even a Muun, one of the officers. It looked like someone had purposefully collected in one place as many of the species of the CIS as they could.  
They were young, these soldiers. From their eyes Grievous could tell that most had never seen a battle, but they didn't flinch as he shifted his gaze from one face to the next.

Eventually, he paused at the end of the line, near the officers.  
"Stand at ease, soldiers of the CIS! - he ordered - I congratulate you for the success of the drill. That was a perfectly executed deployment, considering the short time you had to prepare for it." he continued, deciding to go along with the Twi'lek's lie. At his words, the lad's face grew hotter in a mixture of embarrassment and pride and he beamed, happy like a child.  
"You have demonstrated camaraderie and initiative, and for this you deserve commendation." he continued.  
Some civilians and other soldiers had stopped to gawk, their curiosity piqued by the scene.  
"Let them look." Grievous thought. If some people believed him a monster, it was their loss. He knew who he was, and there was nothing wrong with it.  
"Anything to add, Commander?" he added, turning towards the witch with a curt nod.  
Asajj smirked and nodded in turn. "I think you have summed it up pretty well, General. - she replied looking at him, then turned towards the ranks - The only thing I want to add is that I am pleased to see different units cooperating so seamlessly. Good job, boys and girls." she concluded.

In the moment of pleased silence that followed her words, the IGBC officer steppped out of the ranks. He was young for a Muun, probably less than fifty, which would have made him more or less twenty-five in human or Kaleesh terms.  
Once again, Grievous had the impression that he knew that young man, that he should remember him. It was as if he was on the verge of remembering his name, but didn't quite manage. It was an unsettling feeling.  
"I request leave to speak, sirs." he declared.  
Grievous shot a glance at the witch, who shrugged.  
"Granted. What is your name, officer?" Grievous replied eventually, subjecting the Muun to an intense scrutiny.  
The officer smiled. "I am Lieutenant Tulah Tefnakt of the IGBC Security and Collections." he replied.  
For a moment Grievous felt light-headed and nearly stumbled.  
That name... Tulah... He remembered him now. The kid had served under him for almost five years on Muunlinst, starting as a simple private. That sarcastic, loyal, little twerp! How could he have forgotten about him?

The witch must have noticed that there was something amiss. She brushed his arm with hers and shot him a concerned glance.  
"Don't faint. - she whispered - You're too heavy for me to lift."  
That jab was enough to make him regain his composure.  
"Tulah... - Grievous repeated - What are you doing on Raxus? I didn't think the IGBC would be involved in the war effort."  
"It is not, sir. - Tulah confirmed - As for what I am here... I heard that you are going to form a new battle unit of organic troops, sir."  
Grievous shot a look at Garu, who pretended he had not seen it. So much for keeping it under wraps, but then again, what was the reason for secrecy, if they wanted to open the recruitment?  
"It is true." he declared. There was a hushed but excited murmur among the ranks.  
"Well, sir, then you know why I am here. - Tulah declared smoothly - I am volunteering. Actually, my whole unit is volunteering." he added with a wide grin.  
"Your whole unit?! - Grievous repeated - Are you all here?" he asked.  
Tulah smiled even more widely. "Yessir. The whole lot of us." he replied, then the smile on his face became suddenly wry.  
"I know it must sound maudlin and corny, sir, but we want to fight by your side once more. - he added - We are still your men, if you want us back."

As if by magic, the familiar faces of the Iotrans he had seen in the crowd acquired names. There was Gerden, who had always had a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease, and Johtar who had introduced him to space-step, Kimo and Vask. Even the missing ones came back to his mind: Roghan, the Captain, and Horst, grizzled and close to retirement, and many more.  
They had been the only positive bit of his job at the IGBC, and yet he had forgotten all about them until the moment Tulah had said his name. How was it possible?  
The cyborg blinked repeatedly in disbelief as too many thoughts and feelings piled up in his mind, vying for attention. He took a deep breath and shoved them all to the side. There would be time to sort the mess out later.

"Where are all the others?" he managed to ask.  
"Dealing with their hangovers, I presume. - Tulah replied - We weren't planning to tackle this issue so early in the morning, but, being here..." he added with his old cheeky smile. Grievous felt the once-familiar impulse to box him around the ears. He shook his head again, but there was a smile on what was left of his face now.  
"I would say you are in the program, lad, but it's not just up to me. - he replied - What do you say Commander?" he asked the witch.  
She shrugged and smirked. "Why not?" she replied nonchalantly.  
Tulah beamed so hard that he looked like he was going to catch fire and raised a fist in the air.

"I volunteer too!" Cadet Bonteri exclaimed all of a sudden, taking a step forward and standing next to Tulah.  
"Yeah, me too!" the red-skinned Twi'lek added, coming to stand next to his comrade.  
"Same here!" a Zabrak girl concurred, stepping forward decisively.  
It was as if a dam had been broken and soon most of the Raxians had expressed their willingness to enlist in the new unit.  
The witch looked rather astonished and awed at the sight.  
His talk to Captain Arnos had forewarned him about the attitudes of the Raxian citizens towards the war, but even Grievous felt a bit awed by the response of the Volunteers. Once again he had the feeling that the future was there, waiting for them, that it was theirs to grasp and shape.  
He turned towards the witch. She met his gaze for a brief moment and nodded. She had felt that too, he just knew it. Her gaze flickered to the ranks and he nodded. He would let her work her magic on them.

"That's very gallant of you, children. - she conceded disdainfully - But war is not a game." she added.  
A few faces grew hotter in anger and embarrassment. Grievous was betting that the Twi'lek would be the one to rise to the challenge, instead it was pale-faced Cadet Bonteri.  
"We know that fully well, Commander. - the boy said calmly but decisively - This is the most serious thing that has happened to the Galaxy since the end of the Galactic War. It is about building a better society, fairer and less corrupt, a society where everyone can achieve what they deserve, regardless of any distinction of species, sex, or personal circumstances. It is about our future and our freedom, and we don't want to buy them by paying for more droids. We want to conquer them for ourselves and the future generations with our own efforts ." he concluded.  
"Nice speech, kid. - the witch congratulated - What is your name again?" she asked.  
"I am Lux Bonteri, sir." the boy replied.  
"Any relation to Senator Mina Bonteri?" the witch asked.  
Lux coloured slightly. " She is my mother." he admitted.  
The witch nodded to herself. "I can see where your talent for rhetoric comes from. - she commented - Let me tell you one thing, kid. In the speeches of politicians, war is always glorious and gallant, but in reality it is draining, dirty and nerve-wracking. People die for real. It is not a pastime for rich kids full of big ideals. " she explained.  
Unexpectedly, Bonteri became livid and a frown appeared on his boyish face.  
"I know that people die for real in this war. - he retorted angrily - My father was a Captain in the CIS fleet. He was killed in battle last year, defending our outposts on Aargonath. He was doing his duty. And I will not shirk from mine." he added, and his voice had a steely edge to it, so that even the witch was taken slightly aback.  
"So, you are serious..." she commented quietly.  
"Yes, sir." Bonteri replied tonelessly.  
"All of you are serious." the witch added, much more loudly, so that everyone on the esplanade would hear her.  
"YES, SIR!" the lads replied. Asajj smirked and even if they were not linked at the moment, Grievous thought that he could feel a fierce surge of satisfaction emanate from her.  
"Very well. - she acquiesced - But words are easy. Let's see how many of you will be so eager to go to war after we are finished with you." she declared with glee.  
"From tomorrow onwards, you will undergo an intensive training regime under our supervision. - she announced, slowly stalking in front of the ranks - We will hone your combat abilities, and find the limits of your physical and psychological resilience." she declared.  
Grievous could see their young faces becoming grim, either in terror, or in determination.  
"We will teach you how to survive, how to be true warriors." he added seamlessly, amused by the fact that he was playing the good cop role for once.  
The witch nodded in acknowledgement and continued. "You will devote yourselves entirely to the program for a month... And then you will be tested. Those of you who make it through, will be allowed in the unit. And that includes you, Gunners, and even you, S&Cs. From the success of this first unit, depends the continuation of the program. Only the best will do."  
Here she made a dramatic pause, and waited for her words to sink in.  
"What do you say to that, Cadet Bonteri?" she asked, stopping in front of the boy with a predatory grin on her face.  
"I say challenge accepted, sir." he retorted without even flinching.

The witch smiled almost sweetly. "That's the spirit. - she approved - We might still make an officer out of him, don't you think, General?" she added, turning back towards the cyborg.  
Grievous nodded. "Why not? - he replied - There will be plenty of officer and NCO roles to fill." he added, quickly making a mental count.  
If they were to form one or two companies to test in the assault of Naqdaa... Oh, he could almost see them storming the gods-forsaken main hive and taking down the Naqdaan queen. He would use the droid units as a diversion, to concentrate the attention of the buggers, and then sneak in from the shadows and take out their leadership.  
Even if they went in with just a few hundred warriors, they would need more hopefuls than what they had at the moment, though, because he and the witch would only take the best with them on the mission.  
He could almost see it all coming together and, even if he had envisioned a more long-term plan for the new unit, he knew that their first assignment had to be Naqdaa. Even the witch must have realized it, consciously or not, because the time-frame she had set coincided almost perfectly with the time-frame for the modifications to the Invisible Hand.  
New flagship, new troops. Their return to Naqdaa would mark a big change in the way things were done in the CIS Army.

"Recruitment will be open to all adult CIS citizens, regardless of species or sex. - he announced, setting his plans momentarily aside - There will be a dedicated Shadowfeed page, where you will be able to apply for the training program." he added, making it up as he went along. The witch nodded imperceptibly and he repressed a sigh of relief.  
"The official communication should be broadcast around lunchtime, so I advise that you use this head-start to think hard about what to write in your applications." he concluded.  
"Thank you for giving us this opportunity, sirs." Cadet Bonteri said.  
Grievous shrugged. "The best way of thanking us is to work hard, lad." he replied gruffly.  
The boy nodded, mirrored by many among the ranks.  
"Will do, sir. - he replied - Won't we, citizens?" he added, almost in a yell, turning towards his comrades.  
The ranks roared their approval, fists in the air.  
Grievous smiled again, realizing that he had smiled more in the last week or so than in the nearly two years of his new life.  
"I'm sure you will, but now you'd better get some rest. - he said - Commando Hopefuls! Break Ranks! Dismissed!" he ordered.

The witch remained at his side as the soldiers disbanded in small groups towards the canteen, or tended to the trucks. They stood side by side watching them in companionable silence for a while before she spoke.  
"Can I talk to you in private for a moment?" she asked.  
Grievous, who was already lost in the planning, almost startled at her soft voice.  
"Yes. Sure. - he replied - Where?"  
Asajj motioned towards a building to the far side of the hospital.  
"My place. It is close." she proposed. Grievous limited himself to a nod, not trusting his voice. She was inviting him at her place. It was enough to make a man anxious.  
"Alright. Lead the way." he agreed, more stiffly than he had intended. The witch gave him a perplexed look and shook her head. She started to move and Grievous fell in step with her.

"We didn't do too bad with the soldiers, even if we were improvising." she commented, as soon as they were out of earshot.  
"Who says I was? How do you know I had not planned it all in advance?" Grievous asked with a chuckle.  
"I just know. - she retorted - When you told me that we were keeping the Gunners yesterday night, you didn't even imagined we'd have volunteers so early. And you tend to go a bit wide-eyed when you are anxious. I am observant. " she added with a smirk as they entered the lobby of a sort of forestry.  
Grievous cursed under his breath.  
"Well, sue me if I like to plan things a bit more in advance." he said, piqued.  
"Me too. But it was too good an occasion to miss it." the witch conceded, turning into a corridor lined by cheap plasteel doors on both sides.  
"True. - he agreed - About the training program... It was a good call." he offered, after a moment of silence.  
The witch looked at him in surprise, then her expression softened. "Thanks. - she retorted - That thing about the applications wasn't bad either." she added very quietly.  
Grievous almost couldn't believe his hearing sensors. She was complimenting him! Did that mean that she was no longer mad at him for leaving her hanging the night before?  
"Here we are. - she announced, stopping before one of the doors before he had the time to reorganize his thoughts into a coherent reply - Mind your head, the door is a bit low." she alerted, sliding her keycard in the lock.  
Grievous ducked under the low-ish lintel and followed her in, letting the door close at his back. Asajj didn't turn the lights on, but he could sense her just as well in the dark. She walked across the room and threw the curtains open, letting the light of the early morning sun in through the window. Her flat was just a bedsit with a sofa bed, an armoire and a small, all-purpose table, but it was rather more lived in than his own brand new one. There was a book on the table, and a pair of earrings on the kitchen counter. Signs of life were scattered around.

Suddenly, something shifted in the air. Grievous realized that the witch was going to use the Force on him once again, and braced for it, but instead of using it to push him like her usual, she pulled him forwards, taking him by surprise. She crouched on the ground and swiped his feet from under him, making him fall backwards on his arse with a rather loud clang.  
In a moment, she was upon him, straddling his waist.  
An impulse inside of him clamored for him to retaliate with his full force, for him to lash out and hit her. It took all of his restraint to refrain from following it. He was not hurt, it was just one of her games, he told himself, clenching his fists and forcing his metal joints to lock in place. Thankfully, as soon as it had come, the impulse passed, and he could control himself once more.  
"What was that for?!" he yelled, as he propped himself up on his elbows.  
The witch tilted her head and smirked.  
"That was for being such a bloody tease yesterday night." she replied sweetly, leaning her face close to his.  
Grievous blinked a few times and was trying to reply, when her cheek came in contact with his mask. She rubbed her face slowly against it, and Grievous froze.  
"A kiss. She is kissing me..." was the only thing he could think about.  
Oh gods... She was so warm and soft... And she smelled so good.  
"And this is for returning my sabers..." she whispered, breaking the kiss. He made a small sound of disappointment at the loss of contact and she smiled softly.  
"I don't understand why you decided to give them back to me now, after all the times I had asked for them and you refused me..." she continued, tracing her fingers along his mask. It was a very gentle touch, but it felt heavenly.  
It took the cyborg a few tries to find the concentration to speak.  
"I... I didn't know that they were so important to you. - he said quietly - But now I know. I understand how you must have felt." he added.  
"Your father's mask..." she started, tracing the red lines over his brows.  
"Is at the bottom of the ocean. Lost forever." he concluded for her, averting his eyes. She was even too observant for comfort, at times.  
"Thanks... - the witch said softly - For understanding. And for this morning." she added with an odd awkwardness. She must be as unused to thanking people as he was, but she was better at making an effort.  
"I never thought... - she started, then thought better of it and shook her head - It felt right. You and me and those soldiers. It felt like it meant something for real." she said finally.  
"It does. - Grievous retorted, raising his own hand to reciprocate her touches - Until recently, I used to think that the CIS was just an artificial thing made by Dooku for his corporate cronies... I didn't care, because I just wanted an excuse to kill Jedi for what they did to my people and me. But it is not fake." he added as quietly as he could manage.  
"It is real, here. These people believe in it. They are making it real with their efforts. - he continued and her eyes never left his - This is not just about Galactic trade, or our revenge. This is much greater than us."  
The witch nodded again. "I know. I can feel it too. - she agreed - We have a scary responsibility. But it feels good... and a lot less lonely than usual." she admitted quietly.  
"You must be growing on me, clanker boy..." she added with a playful grin, switching moods without warning.  
"And we can't have that, right?" Grievous commented, trying to imitate her playfulness.  
Asajj hesitated an instant. "Why not? We are partners in crime now. - she replied with a smirk - There are far worse people I could be stuck with." she added.  
"I second this. You could be Gunray, or Wat Tambor." Grievous commented, thoughtlessly letting his hands slide to her waist.  
"Well, I hope you wouldn't let yourself be caught in a situation like this with them..." she provoked, wriggling on his lap.  
"And that is a mental image I didn't really care for. - Grievous lamented - You have a devious mind, witch..."  
"You don't know half of it, yet... - she retorted, giving him another quick kiss - So, what is the plan now? Do you want to organize the practical side, or the Shadowfeed page and stuff like that?"  
It took Grievous a moment to switch back to working mode after the kiss.  
"Do you mind talking to the civvies in IT? - he proposed - Likely as not, they'll be terrified of me." he added ruefully.  
"Can't really blame them. You look at people as if you're wondering how their insides would look like strewn on the floor..." Asajj laughed.  
"I don't." Grievous protested.  
"You do too. The only people to whom you don't do it are the Gunners, and strangely, our new volunteers. - she retorted - I'll take the Shadowfeed side. I know people in PR. We'll have a cool, functional page without anyone getting hurt."  
"Thanks. I wouldn't know where to start." Grievous confessed. He used the Shadowfeed quite often to check his mail but wasn't really much into it.  
"I had imagined it, somehow." the witch commented.  
"I'll arrange for the barracks and the training grounds, then. - Grievous ploughed on, ignoring her comment - Any requests?"  
The witch thought about it for a moment, biting her bottom lip and Grievous was nearly overcome by the desire to snog her silly. He wished he could taste those dark, soft lips. He would bet they tasted sweet, like the fruits of the ratha palm.  
He would never know, though, and the thought made him even angrier at the Republic than he usually was. He knew it was a silly, frivolous reason, but at the moment it was driving him mad.

"Ask for access to the abandoned industrial area, fifty miles to the east of the base. - the witch proposed - We can use it for urban warfare training and... Hey?! Are you even listening to me?!" she exclaimed, rather irritated.  
"Eh?! Yes! Of course! - Grievous retorted, snapping out of his contemplation - Urban warfare training area. East of the base. Good call." he added, trying to mask his surprise.  
The witch eyed him sceptically.  
"I was listening." Grievous pointed out sullenly.  
"Alright. - she conceded - We'll need to sort out a training area for jungle warfare as well. And uniforms." she added  
"The standard issue will do for the hopefuls. We'll figure out a proper one for the real deal. - Grievous replied - I'll deal with logistics, if you want."  
"That's nice of you. - the witch added - I'll talk to the Propos about press releases and dissemination. Maybe they can run an ad or two on the Shadowfeed video channels." She twisted in his lap and used the Force to call her datapad to her hands, promptly starting to tap away.  
"What are you doing?" Grievous asked, feeling irritated and fascinated in equal measures.  
"Checklist. - Asajj replied - Before I forget what needs to be done. We need to find more instructors." she added, as a non-sequitur.  
"Maybe we can borrow some officers from the Nimbus or the Gossam Commandos, or from the Koorivar Fusilliers." Grievous proposed.  
Asajj nodded. "You know anyone?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
"I might. - the cyborg replied cryptically - Now, are you planning to use me as an office chair for much longer?" he asked archly.  
"You're quite comfortable. - she replied cheerfully - And I didn't think you would complain." she added in a low, husky voice. She moved her hips against his in a slow, rocking motion, and everything he had meant to say evaporated instantly from his mind.  
"I think you like me where I am..." she added, setting her datapad aside and leaning over him, so that her face hovered inches away from his in open invitation.  
This time he took it. He closed the distance between them and did his best to kiss her breathless. His hand tried to tangle in her short hair, and she made a soft, pleased sound as his fingers trailed on her nape.

Gods, he wanted her so much! He wished he could carry her to her sofa-bed and nail her until the kriffing thing broke and she was barely able to walk. Or that she would ride him like a wild ollabac, right there on the floor... Either way, it would be paradise, he thought.  
He could feel her hands smoothing down his chest plates, dangerously close to the gap in his armour, left uncovered in his hasty exit from his flat. He wouldn't be able to say no, if she touched him _there_...

It took him an enormous amount of will to gently still her hand as she was nearing her target. He broke the "kiss" and leaned back to gain some distance, panting heavily.  
"We are not going to get anything done, if we don't stop now." he said apologetically.  
The witch's face was flushed and her eyes were wide and almost dark with excitement, but she nodded.  
"I hate to admit it, but you're right." she conceded, but he could hear disappointment in her voice. She picked herself up and stood next to the table with her arms wrapped around herself.  
Grievous remained on the floor for a moment more, trying to deal with the sudden cold that had invaded ,now that he was deprived of her touch.  
"Next time, can we try not to mix things up like this?" he asked, getting to his feet.  
"Can't multitask, clanker boy?" she provoked, but her voice was still breathy and hardly had any bite to it.  
"Between work assignments, yes. Between work and flirting, no. - he replied, stepping closer - You tend to command my full attention, witch." he added, backing her against the table.  
She craned her neck to maintain eye contact and smirked.  
"Wouldn't settle for anything less." she said.  
Grievous could see the pulse point jumping in her neck and smell the scent of her skin. Without thinking, he dipped his head and nestled his face against the curve of her neck. His sense of smell was no longer as sharp as it had been before the accident, but she still smelled heavenly to him. He could have stayed like that for a long, long time.  
"Now who is forgetting that we have to work?" Asajj whispered, clutching at his arms.

Grievous cursed and stepped away from her.  
"I can't really switch it off at will." he protested.  
The witch chuckled. "I suppose not. - she conceded - Let's can it for a while, though. We have a lot of things to do today. Are we still meeting at four?" she asked, trying to pretend she was unaffected and return to business, but the cyborg could still see the flush on her face. He let it rest, but allowed himself some satisfaction in knowing that she was as affected by their antics as he was.  
"We are. - he replied - We need to write that report, and talk to the lawyers. And now we also have to jot down the training program for the Commandos..." he sighed.  
The witch whistled appreciatively. "A tall order. - she commented - Good thing that you don't sleep, and that I had plenty of rest last week." she added with a smirk.  
"I'm sure we'll pull it off." Grievous said, backing towards the front door of the bedsit.  
"I'll see you later, then." he added awkwardly, opening the door.  
Asajj nodded and joined him at the front door. Her hand came to rest on his arm for a brief moment as he crossed the threshold.  
"Good hunting, General." she said.  
"Good hunting, Commander." he replied, brushing her cheek with his fingers in the lightest caress.

After that, he nearly had to throw himself out of the door to prevent himself from behaving like a horny teenager all over again.  
The witch grinned and laughed softly, but didn't comment.  
Her argentine laughter was still resonating in his ears when he walked away, strangely happy.  
He had a full day ahead of him, and something to look forward to. But everything in its time. There were many things to do before he could even think of finishing what they had started.  
It looked like it would be a really good day.


	9. Battlecry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: social justice, anti-slavery movement, anti-speciesism, people taking shots at the Republic, hacktivism, characters of colour, hijabi characters, genderfluid characters, Admiral Trench and Ezra's mom. Yes, seriously. You're going to love this.
> 
> Warnings: language, some awkwardness.
> 
> Enjoy

Her early morning trip to the Propaganda department was basically useless. The Propos were a ragged-looking, overworked lot and were too busy fixing the footage of the last CIS Senate meeting to spare any experienced personnel for any other project.

 

They saddled her with an intern, a fawn-skinned, slightly freckled human girl whose coily hair was braided in cornrows and dyed in shades of baby blue and powder pink. They told her she was a recent graduate in visual arts, or maybe journalism, they weren't really sure, and that she would assist her in case she really wanted a holovid made, then pointed her towards the IT department and resumed whatever they were doing.

It turned out that IT was in a different building of whose existence Asajj had not even been aware until then.  
"I know where it is." the intern said instead, and took the lead down the stairs into the basement of the Propos, and then along some sort of tunnel that stretched between buildings, veined with tubes and cables and slightly dingy.  
"It's a shortcut." the intern explained over her shoulder as she went up another set of stairs.  
"Do you go to IT often?" Asajj asked, still trying to get her bearings.  
"Most of my friends from the University are interning there. -  the girl replied with a nod - The Shadowfeed infrastucture needs all the personnel they can feed into it. It's a newish thing, but it needs to compete with the HoloNet, which has been around, like, for ages. It's though stuff." she added.  
She seemed to be more knowledgeable than Asajj herself was about the inner workings of the CIS. The Dark Jedi had never given it any thought, to be honest.

"What's your name again?" she asked.

"Selina. I'm Selina Jandar." the girl replied with a large smile that uncovered perfect white teeth.

"Well, Selina, since you know so many people in here, I need a favour from you. -  Asajj retorted - I need to get something set up quickly and without fuss, and I want you to find me the people who can do this. Can you?" she added, as sweetly as she could.  
The girl bit her lip pensievely.  
"What kind of something?" she asked.  
"A... well some kind of form where people can apply for a training program." Asajj replied, realising to her chagrin that she didn't know the technical term.  
"An online submission form, you mean?" Selina asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
"I think so." Asajj replied, shrugging slightly.  
Selina nodded, a spark of mischief glinting in her liquid dark eyes.  
"I know the right folks for the job, then." she declared.

They stepped into a small room crammed with several terminals and basically wallpapered with posters of bands and happenings of all kinds. Four people were typing at their keyboards like maniacs, oblivious of the outside world. The air was filled with tension and the smell of takeaway food.  
"Ha! I'm in! - one of the people said - Come on, folks, quick, before they realise they've been breached!" they added with urgency and a face-splitting grin.  
"In!" another said, raising their hands above their head.  
"I've got this!" said the third.  
"Damn! I'm last, again!" the fourth lamented, kicking back from their desk.  
"You gotta polish up your act, Jayce, or you'll end up buying takeouts for the team until retirement." the first one said with an even bigger grin.  
"Oh, shut up, Saato! - Jayce retorted, throwing a paper ball at their comrade - Next time you'll see who is the fastest slicer in here."  
"Behave, you two! We ain't done yet!" the second finisher said.  
"You're right, Mira. Let's deliver the payload, shall we?" Saato exhorted his team.  
"Oh yeah!" the others yelled in a chorus.  
"Then on your marks: three, two, one! Loth-catapocalypse!" Saato announced.  
There was another frenetic bout of typing and clicking, and then some more yelling.  
Above their heads, one of the monitors, that until had been showing the standard propaganda drivel of the HoloNet Newsfeed, switched to a slideshow of animated holos of Loth-cats in various poses and activities (Loth-cats being cute, sleeping Loth-cats, angry Loth -cats, Loth-cats failing at typical cat activities), overlaid with a caption that recited: "Say no to speciesism, say yes to cuteness! - courtesy of Loth-cat Commandos".  
"Yeah, folks! We're so elite!" Saato yelled, jumping from their chair and doing a small victory dance with their comrades."What just happened?" Asajj asked, a deep frown between her thin eyebrows.  
"I think they managed to slice into the main HoloNet server." Selina replied in a whisper, eyes a bit wide.  
Impressive didn't quite cover it, Asajj thought, and when she looked at the four maniacs again, it was with different, less dismissive eyes.Jayce was a human male with pale pinkish skin, long straw-coloured hair and a reddish goatee, dressed in a t-shirt with the logo of some kind of music band, threadbare cargo trousers and sandals, the yet unnamed third finisher was a skinny Togruta teenager, sepia skin mottled with cream-coloured whorls and stripes, while Mira was a young human female. She was dressed head-to-toe in white, a flowing skirt layered over a pair of leggings and a jacket over a turtleneck, which accented her amber-toned skin, and just a bare hint of blueish-black hair could be seen under the white veil covering her head.  
They were a diverse, fascinating bunch, but Saato was surely the most fascinating of them all.Their skin was chalk white, like Asajj's own, and patterned with geometric, gleaming black tattoos, visible everywhere their black cargo shorts and burgundy vest left it uncovered. They were tall and lean, their body angular and nicely defined, but their face was delicate and androgynous, their features sharp but still feminine, accented by the subtle application of makeup and by more tattoos. Sharp white Zabrak horns poked through their intricately braided black hair.  
An arresting sight, no doubt, Asajj thought."Zie is smoking hot, isn't zie?" Selina commented, clearing her confusion about zir gender away.  
Asajj turned a half-hearted sharp glance towards her, but Selina didn't seem cowed.  
She just smiled and rapped the door hard, yelling "Oi, folks!".  
The four slicers stopped in their tracks and turned towards the door with slightly sheepish expressions.  
"Hey, Selina, what...?!" the Togruta boy started to say, but he immediately stopped in his tracks with an awed and slightly worried expression.  
"Woah! Commander Ventress! - he exclaimed - What are you...? I mean..." he added clumsily.  
"What Dyas means to say is that it is an honour to have you here, Commander." Mira amended, elbowing her colleague in the ribs.  
"Yes, ma'am. How can we help?" Jayce added.

Saato didn't say anything, but looked at her with an awed, fascinated expression, a bit like she must have looked at zir, really.

Asajj allowed herself a mental pat on the back but didn't react. She had dressed to impress, but, however beautiful, the slicer was a bit too young, and, between Grievous and the Hopefuls, she had already a bit too much on her plate to flirt with random people.

"I need an online submission system, and I've been told you are the ones who can give it to me the quickest." Asajj declared.  
The four slicers nodded and made affirmative noises.  
"So you're really starting to recruit people, aren't you?" Saato asked finally.  
"We are. - Asajj replied - Do you want to join us?" she asked in a sultry voice, stepping towards zir space. So much for not flirting, she told herself.  
"Thanks for the offer, but no. - zie said calmly - It's not my thing."  
"Really? But I thought you said you were raised by assassins and..." Jayce intervened.  
Saato turned towards him with a death glare.  
"And I told you to shut up about it, didn't I?!" zie yelled, a veil of colour appearing on zir cheeks. Something passed in the air, unseen by all, but though it was faint, Asajj sensed it."My family is part of a weird religious sect, and, yes, I am trained to fight, but I have a real life and a real job now, thank you very much. - Saato explained as zie turned back towards Asajj, a very put upon expression on zir face - Though I might make an exception and kill that flappy-mouthed jerk." zie added, jabbing a thumb over zir shoulder at poor Jayce, who looked suitably frightened."Can you finish the job without him?" Asajj commented airily.  
"Uh... sure." Saato replied, frowning slightly.  
"Then knock yourself out, by all means." Asajj declared, waving a hand in Jayce's direction. The boy was now looking positively terrified.  
Saato shook zir head and took a step back.  
"You sound like my mother." zie commented.  
"She couldn't be too bad, then." Asajj retorted with a smirk.  
The slicer rolled zir eyes but let a quiet little laugh escape zir lips.  
Zie shook zir head and sat down at zir desk, minimising the window filled with rows and rows of code where zie had been working and opening a new one.  
Zie cracked zir knuckles and laid zir hand in position by the keyboard, a bit like a piano player ready to jump into a rhapsody.  
"Right, Commander, tell me exactly what data you want to gather from this form." zie said, turning zir head towards her, grey-green eyes glimmering with amusement.  
Asajj took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts before replying.  
"We want identificative data: name, date of birth, citizenship, species..." she enumerated, but at the last item she felt several pairs of eyes bore into her with suspicion.  
"It's for statistical purposes." she clarified, and the tension seemed to lower immediately.  
"Alright, - Mira intervened - these are the basics, but what else? What are you seeking from your candidates?" she asked.  
Asajj paused again, for longer this time. What did they want indeed? What did she want? Her mind flashed back to the young soldiers gathered in the esplanade of the hospital, to that sense of being part of something bigger, of history rushing to a different course because of their actions, of meaning, of hope.  
How could she communicate this? How could she translate this into questions, to pick out the people that could help them bring that meaning into reality?  
Asajj closed her eyes and took another deep breath. It was not going to be easy.His comm went off just as he was manouvering his Knight in position to corral his opponent's King.  
Grievous sighed and checked the caller ID. It was the witch.  
"I am afraid I will have to take it, Admiral." he said.  
"By all means, General." Trench said, leaning back on his chair, mandibles clicking quietly. His several eyes surveyed the board once more. There were a few ways the Arachnoid could get out of the retreat he had forced him to, but Grievous thought he had most of them figured out.  
"Quiet, you folk!" he yelled at the group of young officers and NCOs that had clustered around their table to watch them play quantum chess.He tapped on the comm controls embedded in his vambrace and a blueish rendition of the witch's face appeared, hovering over his arm.  
"Hey." she said.  
"Hey." he replied.  
"Where are you?" she asked.  
"At the officer's mess hall. Why?" he replied.  
"Do you know where the IT department is?" she retorted without answering his question.  
"No. I have no idea." he replied, slightly peeplexed by the question.  
"It's the orange building next to the Propos!" one of the Raxian Militia NCOs yelled.  
"Yes, that one. - the witch replied - We're nearly good to run, but we need something to put up on the Shadowfeed." she explained.  
"Like an ad?" Grievous asked.  
"Yes, like an ad. - she confirmed - I need you to grab a few of the Hopefuls and meet me at the entrance. How long do you think it's going to take?" she asked.  
"I don't know. Fifteen minutes?" he proposed.  
From the other side came an indistinct voice. Even with his enhanced hearing, he couldn't parse the words.  
"Eh?! What did you say?!" he exclaimed.  
"It wasn't me. - the witch said - They said that you'd better grab at least a woman and folks of at least two or three different species." she added with a small eye-roll.  
"They who?" Grievous asked.  
"The production team. - the witch replied without actually explaining anything - See you in fifteen, then. Ventress out." she announced and cut the call.  
"Damn it!" Grievous hissed, thumping his fist on the table.  
"I am afraid we will have to call the match off, Admiral." he added, standing up and grabbing his cloak.  
Trench nodded again. "We can resume at a later date, if you like. - he proposed - I will be on leave here at least until the Address. My family has never been to Raxus before." he explained, warmly enough even though his mannerisms were hard to decode.

"Tomorrow I have a meeting with the Fleet Engineers at nine, but I should be relatively free later." Grievous replied, slightly wrong-footed by the friendliness of the Admiral. He had never tried to entertain friendly relations with the other high officers before, but it seemed much easier than he had expected, even though the only thing they had in common was that they loathed the Republic and liked quantum chess.

"Just give me a comm and I'm sure we can organise something." Trench proposed.

"Perfect. Now I really have to go. - he said as a goodbye, then stood, picking up his cloak and throwing it on his shoulders with practiced ease - Tulah, Garu, Auray, with me." he added, gesturing towards the three young officers, who bolted upright and followed him without questions.

"Where are the others?" he asked as they walked.  
"Canteen maybe? it's nearly lunchtime." Tulah offered.  
"Phone them up. IT building in ten. Bring volunteers." Grievous instructed. He already had representatives of at least two species and a woman, but he imagined it would not be enough for the production team, whoever they might be.They got lost twice on the way, thanks to the amazing signage system of the base, and when they got there, the lawn in front of the IT building was already occupied by a conspicuous number of Hopefuls and a confused bunch of people holding holocams and datapads."This looks more like a flash mob than a military thing." one of the camerapeople commented, grinning widely. She was a a shortish, chubby, veiled Mirialan teenager, and her shirt read Diversity Matters, emblazoned in rainbow colours over a black background.  
The rest of the "production team" was equally young and colorful and was seemingly lead by a light brown-skinned, freckled human female with pink-and-blue hair and by an androgynous, chalk-white Zabrak.  
The witch was deep in conversation with the two and from the body language, it seemed like they were discussing the placement of something.  
The witch had changed from her hospital clothes and was now wearing a black pleather jacket over a short top that left her toned midriff bare, a pleated red-and black miniskirt and knee-length black leggings. Her feet were bare, as usual, he had yet to see her wear any kind of footwear, but her ankles were adorned with shining silver bangles.  
He must have stalled a moment, lost in contemplation, and she caught his gaze with a smug smile on her dark lips and a beckoning gesture.Grievous signalled to the Hopefuls to stay put and approached.  
"You brought quite the reinforcements. - the witch commented airily - What are we going to do? Assault a Republican outpost?" she added with a smirk, waving her hand towards the milling crowd of recruits. She was teasing him again, it seemed.  
"Sounds like a plan. - he replied in the same tone - But we have to deal with the lawyers at 4. Raincheck?" he added.  
The witch erupted in a brief laugh and shook her head.  
" _I'm glad you finally found your sense of humour._ " she transmitted, giving him a sidelong, playful glance. It seemed like contacting each other was becoming easier and easier with practice.  
"I'll hold you to it, General. - she replied out loud, then turned towards the two civilians - These are Selina and Saato. They are coordinating the project for our Shadowfeed page." she added, introducing the human and the Zabrak respectively.  
"And surely you folks know General Grievous..." she continued.  
The two nodded.  
"It's an honour, General." Selina said, a smile on her smooth, youthful face.

 

Saato instead turned an inquisitive gaze towards him, their brow slightly furrowed in concentration. Grievous looked back at them, uncomprehending. There was something odd about the youth, something weighty in their grey-green eyes. And now that he thought about it, there was something strangely familiar about them too.

"How do you do?" they said, extending a hand for a handshake. Their grip was solid and decisive and their build looked far too athletic for an artist or an IT person. They looked like someone who knew how to use their body like a weapon.

"Are you also a Hopeful?" Grievous asked.  
The Zabrak rolled their eyes.  
"Why does everybody ask?" they said.  
"Because even though you are the biggest cinnamon roll ever, you still look like you can and will kill folks, Saato." Selina replied, patting her friend's shoulder.  
"Those days are over for me." Saato added curtly.  
"How old are you? Sixteen?" Grievous asked. His tone was slightly too aggressive for proper teasing maybe, but the Zabrak seemed to take it in stride.  
"Twenty-two. - they replied -  And in the place I come from the best are either retired or dead by my age." they added flippantly.

Grievous couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"So, what is the plan?" he asked, turning towards Asajj.

"Selina and her university friends have thrown together a small script for a holovid. - the witch explained - It will go on the homepage and on ShadowTube." she explained.

"Are you sure?" Grievous asked, arching an eyebrow. The Shadowfeed video hosting service was notoriously easy to infiltrate. If the video went on there, the Pubs would know of it within a day.

"This is a huge thing! - Selina exclaimed - It deserves to be known. The social media are an important battlefield in this war, and engagement passes through visibility, even though my bosses seem to forget it." she lamented.

"And then in the next couple of days the Pubs will be too busy fixing the main HoloNet server to bother looking stuff up on ShadowTube." Saato added with a smug grin.

Grievous directed the Zabrak a questioning glance.

"We sliced it and planted some self-replicating malware that broadcasts slide shows of Loth-cats. - Saato explained, still grinning - They are going to work hard to get it out of there, and in the meantime, no more HoloNet bullshit. That should teach them to centralise transmissions." they added, buffing their black-lacquered fingernails on their vest with a nonchalant air.

Grievous would have stared at them in slack-jawed awe, if he had been able to.

"My friends and I don't need a saber to fight this war." they summed up.

"So what should we call you, Commander?" Grievous joked.

"Hey, that doesn't sound half bad!" they retorted.

"Please, don't. - Selina interjected - Zir ego is already big enough as it is."

"Me? I'm the most modest, humble person that ever lived." Saato retorted with a grin.

"See? That's what I meant!" Selina protested.

The witch couldn't help herself anymore and burst into a peal of laughter and Grievous felt a shade of that amusement trickle into him too and suddenly a warm feeling was spreading through him and he found himself laughing too, and even though of course he started coughing that warm feeling didn't disappear.

 

"Alright, I like your plan. - he agreed finally - Can we make it so that it will tell the Pubs to stick their rotten ideology where the sun doesn't shine, when they finally see it?"

"'Course we can! - Selina approved - They're going to blow a gasket, guaranteed. And we have ambitious plans after this. You will need a communication strategy, one that will harm the Pubs as much as it raises your profile."

"What do you mean?" Grievous asked, raising an eyebrow under his mask.

Selina handed him a sheaf of flimsi.

"Have a look, sirs." she proposed.

He flicked quickly through the hand-written notes, scanning more than reading, and Asajj looked sort of over his shoulder as he did, but it was enough to flood them both with that feeling of fate in flux, of being at a turning point of history, of being able to really change things.

The document was about freedom and dignity and justice and cast them as heroes, and the best part was that they could be heroes for real and not just in propaganda spiels.

They could show everybody what that war really meant. He knew how much it mattered to have the population back up a cause, how much people could willingly sacrifice for it if they believed in it. 

Both he and Asajj had just started believing in it themselves, but they could do this.

Grievous at least knew he would try. He would do his gods-damned best.

"So what do you want us to do?" Asajj asked, a fervent light shining in her silver eyes.

Selina smirked, knowing they were sold.

 

"It's done! - Saato exclaimed, grinning like a maniac above his laptop - The folks from your Uni did a great job, 'Lina." zie added, bumping zir fist against Selina's.

"Did you ever doubt it?" the girl asked, pretending to be offended.

"Of course not. I wouldn't dare." Saato replied glibly.

"Can we have a look too?" Garu asked. He really wanted to see the end result of their late morning efforts, but he felt like trying to steal a glance around the screen would be overly rude.

"'Course, fam. Here, tell us what you think." zie replied, turning the monitor around towards Garu.

 

The Unclaimed had camped in the canteen with the rest of the Hopefuls and the production team for an extended lunch break and it seemed to Garu that they were all trying to pile up behind him to have a look at the video at the same time.

"Hey, calm down, folks! Don't push!" he yelled when someone elbowed him in the back.

"Can you pop it on the big screen?" Auray asked.

Saato and Selina exchanged a quick glance, then zie recovered zir laptop and tapped a few commands, and all of a sudden the Rodian soap opera that had been playing in the background throughout the meal went dark.

"Hey! What the heck!? I was watching that!" the chief of a small band of Rodian mercs exclaimed.

"Oh, sod off! It was a re-run anyway!" Xan yelled back.

The merc grumbled a bit, but didn't press on. There were too many Hopefuls for his band to take on.

"Aand showtime!" Saato announced, tapping a final command.

 

The dark screen blinked back to life on a picture of Lux Bonteri, pale and deadly serious on a leafy background.   
"For democracy." he said.  
A rousing music started to play in the background.

 

The image cut to Auray. "For equality." she added.

"For dignity." Garu himself continued, looking exceedingly grim and gray on the screen. It felt slightly creepy to see oneself like that, he thought distantly.

"For our fallen comrades." a brown-skinned human militiawoman said, lowering her eyes in grief.

"For our families." another Hopeful, a Devaronian boy, continued.

"For our future." Xan added with a confident grin.

 

"Because we don't hide behind others." Tulah provoked.

"Because we're free people." Selina butted in.

"And we will fight for our freedom." Saato finished the sentence for her, a wicked smirk on zir lips, as if to dare the whole of the Republic to fight zir.

The two had only test-driven the format, but they looked so confident and assured that the production team had decided to keep their footage, even though, technically, they were not Hopefuls.

 

"Because there can be no peace without justice. - the General himself rumbled, golden eyes blazing - And there can be no justice without the fight against oppression." he added.

"Because only through victory our chains can be broken. - Commander Ventress continued - The Force will set us all free." she promised.

 

The frame widened to capture both her and the General, standing side-by-side. They turned slightly towards each other and their eyes met and something passed between them, some flash of shared understanding, of camaraderie, and they smiled. It was only a slight smile at first but it grew larger and brighter. They looked happy of being there, fully confident in their reasons.

 

The music reached its climax and the screen whited out, then the image transitioned to a piece of aerial footage, probably shot with the drone of one of the University folks.

The image showed all of the Hopefuls standing together in the middle of a grassy field, arms crossed and looking at the camera, with the General and Commander Ventress standing in the middle of them.

"And you? What will you fight for?" a voiceover said, then the screen turned black again.

"CIS Commandos. Recruiting now." the voice concluded and the information to apply appeared, written in white and red in some fancy designer font.

 

It took Garu and the others a few moments to find their voices, but when they did, the whole group exploded in a bout of loud clapping and whistling and banging on tables.

"That was awesome!" Xan exclaimed, looking absolutely stoked.

"Yeah, grub. That made me want to punch some Pubs real bad." Van approved, nodding enthusiastically.

"We're glad you liked it, folks. - Selina thanked - It goes without saying, but we would be very very grateful if you could share it with your contacts on the social networks and make sure it goes around. This can be a step change for the CIS, if you help." she explained.

There was a mumbled chorus of "Yeah. Of course. Sure", then people bent on their comms and dove in, chatting among themselves to divy up their circles of online and offline friends.

"And what about the online form?" Lux asked.

Selina shrugged and glanced at Saato.

"That's ready too. - zie replied - Mira has even put together a FAQ to help you folks complete it. I guess that if Selina's plan comes into fruition, the bosses will eventually have to recruit some HR staff to sort out through all of them." zie added with a shrug. 

 

"So, who are you going to send it to?" Selina asked Garu.

The Neimoidian captain scratched the side of his head, drawing up a quick shortlist.

"There is a bunch of younger kids like us over in the slums of Cato. I'm going to send the stuff over to their leader and see if they want to join." he explained.

"Yeah, getting shot at is still better than starving." Tush confirmed. 

"I'm going to send it to our sister Yeru. - Leth interjected - She's a mechanical engineer, but she has a bunch of friends all over the Rim from her Uni." he explained.

"Where did she go to?" Moya asked with clear interest. She was a Mirialan friend of Selina who had done most of the video editing for the clip.

"To MIT. She got a scholarship and we paid for the rest by working as mercs." Garu replied proudly. They had sacrificed much, but it had been worth it.

Moya whistled in admiration. "You're a cool bunch." she said, bumping her fist against Garu's shoulder.

He felt a wave of heat rise to his face. The Garu brothers were not used to be praised for their efforts. Upper-class Neimoidians were almost entirely individualistic and looked down on charitable efforts, as they claimed they would foster laziness among the poor, while the rest of the slum-folks, those who were without education and therefore lacking in perspectives and ambitions beyond survival, thought them foolish for wasting hard-earned money like that.

 

"Yeah... I mean... - he stammered, reatreating as far as the throng would allow - Hey, Tulah, what are you doing? Writing a poem?" he commented, trying to redirect the attention onto someone else.

The Muun momentarily stopped his furious tapping on his comm.

"Nah, only some context. - he retorted, apparently unflapped by the attention - The video is not entirely self-explanatory."

"Who are you sending it to?" Selina asked, her brow furrowed in a puzzled frown.

"To my ex." Tulah replied, resuming his tapping.

"Hang on, but wasn't she from Kalee or something?" Lux intervened.

"Yeah, so what?" Tulah retorted with a shrug.

"So Kalee has not declared for either side..." Lux continued.

"Not yet. - Tulah rebutted, cutting off his objections - But if I was dying to fight alongside my former boss, I'd bet they'll be dying to fight with their _khaghan_. After what the Republic did to them, it's their war as much as it's ours." he explained.

"I would have thought the Senate of the CIS would have contacted them already. - Lux objected again - Maybe they didn't want to fight."

"Maybe. - Tulah acquiesced - But maybe they haven't. There are a lot of unnecessary secrets and restrictions in this war, and bureaucracy has its peculair way of complicating things. Maybe they slipped though the cracks, or maybe they didn't have any money to contribute to the droid armies." he hypothesised.

"They're ass-poor down there. Ain't got any money at all." Gerden confirmed with a grimace.

"But they're warriors, and they're brave. - Tulah continued - And now that they would have the chance to contribute, it would be unfair to cut them off it. Maybe nothing will come out of this, but I feel like it's the right thing to do." he concluded.

"Well said!" Hardy exclaimed, slapping him around the back.

"Yeah, the more the merrier. - Xan agreed - Only a united front of the oppressed can have enough traction to bring about radical change. And I guess they know more than most what the Republic can do to poor non-human populations with no political patrons." he declared.

"Do they?" one of the other Raxian militiapeople asked.

"Yep. Did you know that more than thirty million Kaleesh have been enslaved in the last fifty years? That's more or less a third of the total population and puts them fourth in absolute numbers after humans, us twi'leks and zabraks, but first relative to their total population." Xan lectured.

"You're full of fun facts, eh, Xan?" one of Iotrans teased.

"My mother was a slave. - Xan revealed, a hard glint in his eyes - She was rescued by the Galactic Sentient Rights Watch and has worked as a volunteer for them ever since. I did too, and you know what? The Republic is not going to do anything about slavery. It never has. It's up to us to erase it from the Galaxy." he concluded, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

"Uhmmm... Do you know what? We need to run the idea past them, but maybe we could try and paint those two as Darth Imperius and Darth Silentium reborn." Mira interjected, tapping a delicate finger on her chin pensatively.

"Who?!" quite a few people exclaimed, Garu among them.

"Commander Ventress and the General, who else?" Mira replied, blinking in confusion.

"Duh! Not them. Those other two. Who the heck are they?" Van retorted, quicker and louder than the rest.

"They were Sith from the Old Empire, before Ruusan. - Mira replied - They held a whole quadrant for a couple of decades and eliminated slavery completely." she explained.

"With fire and sword, I'd bet." Selina butted in.

"No peace without justice." Mira retorted with a grin.

"Yeah. No peace without justice!" Xan repeated, raising his fist in the air, amidst a chorus of whistles, ululations and thumping of hands and feet.

"Looks like we've even found a battlecry." Garu commented.

"I like the way it sounds." Van agreed.

"Yes, it has a certain punch. And I'm sure the General will appreciate." Tulah conceded.

"I certainly hope so." Selina retorted. She whipped out her handheld camcorder and turned it on.

"Alright, folks. Let's start making history. - she declared - Can I have the battlecry, but all together now? Come on, folks... This one is for the Pubs!" she exhorted.

" **NO PEACE WITHOUT JUSTICE!!!!** " they yelled, fists raised in the air, and Garu's throat felt raw from the yelling, but his eyes stung for a wholly different reason. 


	10. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from Star Wars in any shape or form. I own any OC I can invent, though. I am not making a £ out of this. It is just for shits and giggles.
> 
> Hi folks, here is the second chapter I promised. Unfortunately I haven't got anything ready after this, mainly because I felt compelled to write a Rebels AU that fixes the ungodly mess the official writers concocted, but I'll do my best in the near future to work on this fic and get something out. I have it already planned out to the end. I just need to sort out the plans for the other one and get back to work.
> 
> In this chapter: social justice by the bucketloads, coping with disability, PTSD, awkward flirting and dating, helpful weather and lemon! You're welcome!
> 
> Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, mentions of background character deaths, xenosexual lemon.
> 
> Enjoy

"That could have gone a lot worse." Asajj commented, stretching her arms above her head. They had been sitting in front of a terminal for what felt like a lifetime and though the conference call with Eli, Donnay and Roth had been very productive, she felt like her back was all knotted up.

"I will be happier if we don't have to talk to a lawyer for the next couple of years." Grievous commented, complaining as always. He made to stand, but stopped mid-movement with a concerned expression in his eyes.

"What's up, clanker boy?" Asajj asked.

"I... it's nothing." he replied, but the concern in his eyes had turned into what looked like panic.

"Hey! I can tell there is something wrong. I can't help you, if you don't tell me." she insisted.

"My... my legs have gone idle... - he whispered - I have been sitting still for too long and now... I can't feel them. It's like they weren't there. Which is... true in a way..." he continued, quieter and quieter, lowering his eyes to the ground.

Asajj sighed and rolled her eyes, then unceremoniously sat on his lap, hoping fervently that the oversized chair would hold them both. Grievous stiffened for a second then relaxed with a sigh of relief as sensation flooded back into him.

"Better now?" Asajj asked.

"Better." he admitted quietly.

"Next time tell me that you need a break before you freak out, alright?" she whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders and depositing her words straight into his ear.

"I am not some sort of weakling." he protested, bristling and straightening.

"No, you just function differently from everyone else. - Asajj replied - The sooner you accept it and stop trying to ignore your needs the better for everyone." she added and stood again, walking a few steps towards the window and looking out at the sports field full of people having fun and enjoying the late afternoon sun.

The sound of quiet clanking informed her that he had managed to stand too.

"So what next?" he asked, coming to stand next to her.

"I don't think there is much else we can do this evening. But you could buy me dinner. - Asajj provoked, giving him one of her trademark seductive glances - I mean if you don't object to people eating in front of you..." she backpedaled almost immediately. What an idea she had pulled out, she silently berated herself. You don't invite to dinner a guy who doesn't even have a mouth to eat (or a stomach, for that matter).

"Oh, I am sorry... forget I even asked!" she erupted finally.

"What is the problem, witch? - Grievous challenged - All of a sudden you are ashamed of being seen out and about with me?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and stooping to loom over her.

"Am I too lowly to share a table with you?" he insisted.

"What?! No!" Asajj replied, wrong-footed by his reaction.

"Then what?" he asked, brows furrowed in irritation.

"You can't eat!" she blurted out.

Grievous blinked in confusion, straightening and backing off a bit.

"Well, yes. That's true. And that is a problem because...?" he retorted, suddenly uncertain.

"Because I will be eating and you will have to watch me without being able to share." Asajj replied, crossing her arms defensively. Why did he look like she had said something wildly unusual?

He froze for a moment at her words, then a smile slowly spread on his features.

"Oh dear... it sounds like you're actually worried about me..." he murmured, crowding her again with his body.

"I am not!" Asajj retorted almost automatically, but it was a lie and they both knew it and when the playful light disappeared from his eyes she realised she shouldn't have said that. They had long passed the point of pretending they didn't care for each other at least a bit. Naqdaa had changed things between them, and after the previous night they couldn't even pretend it was a side effect of battle. It was a thing, yet unnamed but real, a partnership at the very least, and as far as she remembered from the time before she was on her own, one was supposed to look out for a partner.

"Maybe I am. - she conceded, almost grimacing from the effort - It must be hard enough to... to be you. I don't want to make it harder." she added, uncrossing her arms and rubbing a hand over her hair in an attempt to look casual.

"You're not. - he replied quietly - It's not a problem, really. I can't feel hungry. The Geonosians who fixed me were thoughtful enough to make sure of it." he said with a shrug, trying to sound as if he didn't care.

Asajj placed a hand over his forearm and looked up at him, wishing she knew a way to tell him... she didn't even knew what, and yet it was burning on the tip of her tongue.

"One less thing to worry about, I suppose." she said at the end as she dropped his hand, frustration making her harsh and abrupt.

"That's one way to put it. - Grievous commented with a bitter little chuckle - Shall we go now?" he asked, gesturing towards the door.

Asajj sighed. She should have handled the conversation differently, somehow, but they both seemed to have an uncanny knack to get trapped in awkward situations and no idea of how to get out of them with good grace.

"Let's." she agreed.

Curious gazes followed them as they walked quietly along the the streets of the base, bathed in the warm apricot light of impending twilight.

Curious, but mostly not hostile or even judgemental, Asajj noticed. People would stop or do a double-take, some would even stiffen up in a salute or raise a fist and yell a slogan. The latter were mostly Hopefuls, excited like the kids they were about the prospect of joining what they saw as a heroic fight, but in truth the whole base was buzzing with enthusiasm and barely contained excitement.

She could feel it throbbing in the Force, like the beat of a distant song, reverberating in her chest. It felt like when she had led the slave uprising against Osika Kiske, the warleader who had her Master killed back on Rattatak, like a wave was rising, and she could ride it to glory if so she wished.

She had never noticed that before. Until Naqdaa she had never had the feeling that there was anything but Dooku's schemes to the CIS, that it was anything but a ploy, but this, this was power far superior to anything that any fallen Jedi or even the Master of the Sith could field, to anything the Dark Side could offer. This was the power of people who believed in their cause, a cause that was not so dissimilar to her own after all, and she knew that she could exploit it, no, better, she could direct it, guide it, bring it to fruition.

She could be a hero. She could be a saviour. She could make sure that what had happened to her Master and her never happened to anyone else ever again, that there were no more Osika Kiskes, or stuck up Jedi who disowned their own for caring enough for a place and its people to live and die for them.

She could make everything better, like she always wanted, like her Master had taught her, until there were no chains left, until true freedom reigned.

"Thinking happy thoughts?" Grievous asked, brushing a taloned finger against her arm to catch her attention.

"I beg your pardon?" she retorted, abruptly jarred from her train of thought.

"You were smiling. Like a katara who has the scent of her prey." he explained quietly.

"I was thinking about this war, about why I am in it. - she replied - I never gave it any thought before. I just went along with what Dooku planned for me, even though I wished that there was more to the Dark Side than constant pain and anger and loneliness."

"And now?" he probed.

"And now I am starting to think that there is more to life than what he wants from me, from either of us. That I can finish what I started back home." she replied.

"And what is that?" Grievous asked.

"Fixing things." she replied as vaguely as she could, suddenly ashamed of her idealism, but all she could read in his body language and in the Force was attention and interest.

"It's a long story. - she warned - maybe it would be better if we talked over dinner." she proposed.

"I agree. - he said - Oh, wait. I know where we are! Do you fancy Mando food?" he asked all of a sudden.

"Yes, but..." she tried to object, but he grabbed her hand in a surprisingly gentle but still unbreakable hold and shot down a side-street, forcing her to run to keep apace.

He took another two or three turns and led them into a small court, mostly occupied by mismatched, mess hall-style tables belonging to a tiny eatery that occupied the front of one of the buildings. The smell of spices and meat wafted all over the court, making Asajj's stomach growl.

"It smells nice. - she commented - How did you even know about this place? It looks pretty well hidden to me." she added.

His eyes had taken a glazy, faraway look, as if he was looking at something far more mesmerising than a back-alley cantina.

"I... I have been here before... - he revealed - Before the war. I had business in Raxulon and my ship was being repaired around here. It used to be a sort of business park back then." he continued, almost mechanically, then blinked slowly and shifted his head as if startled.

"You had another flashback." Asajj said.

"Yes, it seems like I did. - he agreed, rubbing his forehead wearily - My memories from before the crash are a mess. If I try to remember, they stay out of reach, but they flare up every now and again when I least expect them." he explained, all apologetic and ashamed.

"Pick your option between paranoia, panic attacks and amnesia... Isn't PTSD wonderful?" Asajj joked, a bitter undertone sliding in her voice.

"We're still here, aren't we? - Grievous retorted, laying a hand on her shoulder and looking at her with a hint of a smile - We've survived what they threw at us, we got better, and we're going to get back at them. This is all that matters." he declared.

"I hate to admit it, but you're right, clanker boy." Asajj conceded, smiling back at him. Somehow her hand ended up on top of his for a second before they moved apart.

"So, since you're local, so to speak, what do you recommend?" she asked, conveniently changing topic.

"It depends. How spicy do you like your food?" he retorted, and his gaze shone with a challenge she was happy to accept.

They ended up buying take-away and moved back to Grievous' accomodation so that they would be able to keep on talking undisturbed. Asajj didn't mind. The sun was setting behind the lake, and even though a gentle breeze was blowing, it was still warm enough that they could sit outside, on the small terrace two doors down from his rooms.

The other officers left them mostly alone, occasionally showing up for a smoke and a drink, but there was enough space for everybody to enjoy the evening without getting on each other's nerves.

"How's the food?" Grievous asked at some point, after she had been eating silently for a while.

"Just how I like it." Asajj admitted truthfully, heaping a bit more yam-flour on her plate to mop up the sauce from her stew.

"You seem to enjoy spicy food more than most softskins." he commented.

"It's all a matter of habit. - she said - On Rattatak, if the food doesn't make you sweat it's not real food." she added, only partially in jest.

"Is that where you're from? Rattatak?" he asked.

Asajj nodded, her mouth full, then helped herself to some water.

"Not originally, probably. When my Master found me, I was a slave. - she replied - The Force only knows where I had been taken from. But I can pass as Rattataki, as long as I shave." she added with a shrug.

"A slave?!" Grievous exclaimed, his eyes going wide and concerned.

Asajj nodded again. "Yes, I mean, I was well-kept, probably because my owner wanted to use me as a bed-warmer when I grew up, but I was a slave nonetheless. With collar and all."

"Did he... harm you?" he asked, and he seemed deeply, genuinely pained at the idea.

"He was killed in a raid when I was six or seven, and thankfully he was not such a pervert." she replied. She didn't quite know why she was revealing so much of herself to him. Maybe after sharing minds everything seemed less compromising, she pondered, and at any rate she was quite enjoying the fact that he seemed completely shocked by her narrative.

"And then?" Grievous ask.

"And then Master Ky found me and showed me the true meaning of freedom." Asajj replied and even though her heart twinged a little, she managed to mantain a pleasant, indifferent façade, or at least so she thought.

"A Jedi?!" he questioned.

"A renegade one. - she corrected - He crashed on Rattatak during a botched mission, and by the time he had managed to contact the Order for pickup, he had taken the cause of the slaves of Rattatak to heart, and didn't want to go back." she narrated. Her stew was cooling in her plate but suddenly she didn't feel that hungry anymore.

"He asked them to send over a task force to overthrow the slaver lords of Rattatak and restore freedom on the planet and they told him it was not the Order's business what happened outside the Republic." she continued. Her hands clenched into fists on the table, but her voice didn't waver.

"So it was just me and him, and at the end it was just me..." she concluded in a whisper, eyes stinging, voice catching.

She wouldn't cry, she wasn't crying, she told herself, it was all in the past and she had avenged Master Ky a thousand times over. She had exterminated the Weequay raiders who had dealt him the killing blows, she had led the rebellion that had toppled the slaver lords one by one, and at the end she had ripped the still-beating heart out of Osika Kiske's chest.

She had done what she had to, she thought, and then suddenly memories not her own slipped into her mind: images of burning buildings, gutted by explosions, of piles of chitinous carapaces erected as warning that there would be no quarter or mercy, of chains broken and freedom gained, of dignity restored and loss avenged... but not enough, never quite enough. No matter how much enemy blood was shed, that scar would never heal, the pain would never leave... they had taken too much from him and now his grief would last for as long as he lived.

Metal claws screeched against the table, drawing furrows in the hardwood surface and jarring them both back into the present.

Grievous' brows were furrowed under his mask, his pupils reduced to the thinnest black slit, his ears flat against his skull. He was panting for breath as if he'd just run a klik and she wasn't faring much better. Her chest was tight with the weight of her pain and his. Their connection had returned in full force, without any of them actively seeking it. This worried her a bit but the thought of disconnecting didn't even enter her mind. She didn't want to be left alone with those thoughts, and it wouldn't be fair to leave him like that either. Her memories had pulled him into that state.

"Who... who were they?" she asked quietly. She didn't want to cause him even more pain, but she needed to know.

"The Huk. - Grievous replied, and his voice sounded even raspier and rougher than usual with anger - They oppressed and enslaved my people. They killed my parents and my sisters, then my father, and then... _her_." he said, lowering his head and Asajj knew that he meant the warrior woman from the beach, the one he couldn't save.

"It's not your fault." she offered, placing a hand over his.

"It has never made it less painful. - he replied, shaking his head - Some days it felt like grief was all that I had." he confessed in a strained whisper.

"Is that how you got your name?" Asajj blurted out, trying to defuse the situation with some bad humour.

"Yes, it is. - he replied instead - I wanted my enemies to know that I would cause them the same grief I carried inside me. How did you know?" he explained, raising his gaze back towards her.

"Uh... honestly I didn't. I had always thought it was a silly Darksider codename Dooku had given you. - Asajj admitted feeling slightly ashamed of her words and thoughts - But I like the truth much better. It takes a special kind of person to pull through so much and keep on fighting. And you certainly live up to your name." she said. Both her hands wrapped around his, squeezing gently. There were so many things she wanted to say and to ask, but she didn't know how. She had never talked like this with anyone after Master Ky's death and her tongue and ideas twisted and tangled uselessly, unaccustomed to gentleness and companionship.

"I try my hardest.- he replied, forcing a smile - I want to fix things, just like you do, and may the gods have mercy on anyone who stands in the way, because I won't." he declared.

"Me neither. No peace without justice." Asajj added with a smile of her own.

"And only victory will truly break our chains." he continued, taking the lead from her and it felt so right...

Something switched inside Asajj, a strange feeling lanced through her veins, almost like pain, and the next thing she knew, she was out of her chair and on his lap, locked in a ferocious kiss with him. The chair, already strained by the cyborg's not unconsiderable weight, gave up on them, depositing them on the floor with a crash and a clang.

Grievous ended up beneath her, looking altogether too delighted about it, and she lost no time in straddling his waist and grinding herself on him. She wanted him so badly that she couldn't think straight, and the needy noises he was making didn't help. In some distant recess of their minds they knew that they were in public and that some other officer could walk in on them at any moment, but somehow all thoughts of discretion and decency seemed extremely unimportant compared to the possibility of finally quenching their need after such a long wait... long days and long nights, alone but not, the other a constant, welcome presence at the back their minds...

They were saved by the comms, at the end. Messages pinged on both their accounts, startling them with their high-pitched beeps.

"Who the hell is it at this time of the night?!" Grievous growled under his breath.

"Force help me, if it's Dooku, this is the time I'm finally going to tell him to sit on a stake." Asajj added, reaching for her handset with the Force and then tapping angrily on the email icon to open it. A wave of dread passed through her for a moment. If it was actually Dooku that would probably mean an emergency summons, and she couldn't stand the thought of actually having to delay their activities again.

"It's Selina from Comms. - she announced instead, with audible relief - She says the ad has already reached a million views on Shadowfeed, and that they are planning to upload another one, if we approve it." she explained.

"Let's have a look, then." Grievous sighed.

She turned the screen of her handset so that they could both see it at once and tapped on the file.

The video itself was really short. The frame was occupied almost completely by Hopefuls, with the 15th Unclaimed in the front row, as usual, their faces bright with excitement.

"Come on, folks, this one is for the Pubs! What do we say?" Selina's voice yelled from outside the frame.

"NO PEACE WITHOUT JUSTICE!" the Hopefuls yelled back, raising their fists in the air.

"WHAT DO WE SAY?!" Selina asked again.

" **NO PEACE WITHOUT JUSTICE!** " they roared.

"Wow... That caught faster than a house on fire..." Asajj whispered, setting her comm aside.

"Your comms people are really on roll, aren't they?" Grievous commented, looking and sounding slightly shocked.

"A million views... - Asajj repeated, shaking her head - Can you believe it?" she asked, looking at him with a slightly wild air.

Grievous erupted in a brief bout of laughter. "All of this seems like a dream to me." he replied, gesturing to the two of them on the floor, and the food on the table and the last light of the sun and the people out there who were making that wild idea real with them.

"But it's a good dream, and I want to believe it." he added with a small, almost timid smile.

"I want it too. - Asajj confessed quietly - I want it all."

"Then we'll take it. We'll make things right." he promised.

Some reflex ingrained through long years of hardship and pain and loneliness triggered in her mind and for a moment angry, destructive thoughts flashed in her head.

"There is no us. I do not need you and I won't let you use me." these words burned on her tongue and she wanted to say them, she wanted to hurt him before he hurt her, because beautiful things never lasted and men pretended that they cared to take advantage, and it had happened before, and she couldn't go through it again, and it was all happening too fast, but she couldn't stay away from the lure of having something to call home, of belonging again...

... and he was scared too, so scared, because he could barely accept himself, and he couldn't understand how someone else could, but he needed her, he needed all of it, the sarcasm, the rivalry, the teasing, everything, because she made him feel alive, like he had never thought he would feel again...

... and they were both several different kinds of broken and messed up, all at once, but they had each other and the thing they had started, almost by accident, and they could grow it, they had done it before, each of them separately, but if they joined their efforts, they knew they could make a real difference, they could really make things right once and for all...

"Together?" Asajj dared to ask. A strange feeling was churning in her heart, making it feel too big and bulky to fit in her chest.

"Together." he confirmed with a solemn nod. He cupped her cheek with one of his large, cool hands and sat up straighter, looking at her with gleaming golden eyes. She looked back and leaned in just a fraction, rubbing her other cheek against his mask in what translated into a gentle kiss.

It was an unusual way of ratifying an alliance deal, but they were unusual people and life had short-changed them enough times that they felt entitled to making their own rules.

"General..." she saluted with a half-bow that would have looked formal if she hadn't been straddling him like that.

"My Lady... - he reciprocated with a fond smile - Is that the right title?" he asked.

"I think I like Commander better. Now, where were we...?" she whispered, pressing herself close to him.

"We were doing our best to get caught red-handed by my neighbours, I believe." he replied in the same tone.

His hands slid under her skirt, upwards to her backside, encouraging her to press herself even closer against him.

"They would probably run away screaming and need mental bleach after that... - she chuckled - But as entertaining as it would be, I'd rather it didn't happen all the same. And not because I am ashamed of you." she hastened to add.

"Being a woman in this army is already hard enough if you don't get caught screwing the living daylights of your favourite colleague in a public space." she explained, a hint of weariness seeping in her voice.

"Let's go inside, then. There is a nice couch that is waiting to be inaugurated." he proposed.

"Or a bed." she retorted.

"Or a bed." he confirmed.

"What are we waiting for, then?" she murmured .

They managed to keep appearances up along the corridor, but as soon as the door to his rooms closed behind them, all pretences dropped, and her clothes followed, until she stood in the middle of the living room, naked as the day she was born.

He looked at her with longing and awe for long moments, silent and still as a statue, then let himself fall to his knees before her.

"You are so beautiful..." he whispered, looking up at her. His eyes were shining with more than just reflected moonlight and there was a slight tremor to his voice, an edge of too-much and not-enough all at once.

"I wish I could kiss you everywhere..." he added wistfully, tracing the length of her calf with the tips of his talons. Asajj's heart did a little happy flip at the idea.

"But you can. - she blurted out - I mean, if you want. Why not?" she added, hoping she didn't sound desperate. His subtle caresses were not helping, in that sense.

"It's not going to be the same." he objected, but thankfully kept on touching her. She felt like she was going to explode if he stopped.

"No, it's going to be different. It's going to be our way." she insisted.

"But it cannot possibly..." he started, but she was not going to have any of it. She placed a hand at the back of his head and pushed him gently but firmly, until his mask was pressed against her lower abdomen.

"Let me judge that, for starters." she objected, widening her stance a bit to provoke him, but at the same time letting her barriers down as far as they would go, so he would know how much she wanted it.

He made a low, whiny noise and his hands rose to grab her hips.

"Are you sure?" he asked, even though she knew he wanted that as much as she did. There could be no lies or subterfuges between them when they were like that.

"Of course I am sure! Less talking, more kissing, now. Come on, clanker boy..." she teased.

He was still for a moment, incredibly still, then rose, no, surged, and Asajj found herself on her back on the floor, and he was above her and his hands seemed to be everywhere at once and they were both burning again, like the first time. True to his word, he was rubbing his mask all over her, sniffing her carefully, as if he was savouring it and wanted to make it last, and he was purring as he did it, a deep rumbling sound that reverberated through his chest and vibrated against her skin as his vocabulator amplified it.

Later she was sure she would find an occasion to tease him at least a bit about it, but now all she could think of were pleasant possibilities... Very pleasant possibilities...

Linked as they were, he seemed to catch her thoughts and hastened his slow descent down her body and then he lifted her legs over his shoulders and held her hips in his huge, cool hands and bent his head between her legs, rubbing, purring pressing against her flushed, drenched folds, and she was tossing and twisting in his grip, moaning shamelessly for him, but shame had no place between them, there was only shared pleasure and joy and maddening amounts of trust and...

"Oh... I'm..." she managed to say and he growled something that sounded like a curse and suddenly she was overcome by pleasure so intense that her vision whited out and her breath caught in her throat and all she could do was whimper and hold on to him for dear life as he relentlessly kriffed her through climax after climax.

"You pulled back..." Asajj chided breathlessly, once she finally regained her ability to string coherent sentences together.

"I wanted to watch you come..." Grievous confessed quietly. He was still kneeling on the floor next to her and the light of the moon made his eyes shine like molten gold and his armour like silver. They had not made him to be beautiful, but he was.

"It's hard to do that if all you can see are flashes of light or the inside of your eyelids, isn't it?" she teased, but he didn't seem to catch it.

"You looked so beautiful like that... so radiant. - he continued leaning forward to touch her face with gentle fingers - I could hardly believe that I was doing that to you, that I was really making you come for me..."

"So you had to do it a few times more just to make sure, didn't you?" she retorted, trying to sound playful. Her fingers traced the lines of the dark durasteel frame of his forearm, making his breath hitch.

"I could not get enough of you. I didn't think you would object." he replied breathily.

"I most certainly do not." Asajj retorted, a puff of laughter escaping her lips at the thought. "But you certainly set the bar quite high for the next round." she added, rising on an elbow to keep on teasing him, her fingers tracing ever higher up his inner arm and then onwards along the metal beams that replaced his clavicles.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want." he said, even though his eyes were fluttering close and he was starting to shiver in pleasure.

"But you haven't..." she objected.

"I don't have to. - he cut her off -

I'm not the type of man that thinks he is entitled to... things because of a takeaway dinner and a bit of grinding. I don't want you to feel obliged to retribute." he declared belligerently, and she could tell he was sincere, even though he wanted it so badly that his desire was almost like a physical thing trapped inside him and he had no way of releasing it by himself.

"He still worries that he is too broken and disgusting for me to really want him..." she realised immediately, and the idea made an irrational surge of anger trickle through her veins, not towards him, but towards fate in general, for being such a bastard.

"I appreciate the sentiment, clanker boy, but there is a problem, you see?" she said, sitting up and pushing him backwards with her hands splayed on his chest and a good helping of the Force. He didn't put up even a token resistance and let her press him to the floor.

"I really, really want to screw you until you beg, and I've wanted it for days." she continued, crawling up his body until her face was level with his.

She undid the knot on his sash and pushed it aside, splaying her hands on his chest and smoothing them up and down over it. Contrary to other parts of him, it was almost warm from the heat radiating from his organics, a bit like his mask. It was another thing only she knew about him, like the way his eyes went dark and wide when she touched him, his slitted pupils growing rounder as they dilated, or the sounds he made in the throes of pleasure. He was hers and she wanted to touch and know all of him.

"Do you have anything to object?" she asked finally.

"Can we move to the couch? - he replied - I can't breathe very well in this position..." he added, all apologetic.

"You what?!" Asajj exclaimed, leaning back so he could sit up.

"Things in here don't work very well if I'm flat on my back. - he explained, tapping a finger on his chest - I guess the Geonosians never imagined I would be in a situation like this..." he added, trying to make a joke of the problem.

"Why didn't you tell me immediately?!" Asajj complained, slapping a hand on his chest.

"It doesn't immediately bother me, and I was... distracted. - he retorted with a shrug - But I have the impression that you want to take your time, am I right?" he asked, wagging his eyebrows.

"Which part of the sentence "you'll be begging me to let you come" is obscure to you?" she asked, in turns exasperated by his attitude and relieved that she hadn't hurt him. She didn't mind beating him up on the training grounds, but she didn't like the idea of hurting him by mistake or negligence like that.

She slipped her hand in the gap in his armour and brushed her fingers against the warm synthskin inside and his quippy comeback turned into a low groan of pleasure.

"Ngh... I am not going to last very long if you do this..." he managed to say.

"You underestimate the power of the Dark Side..." she joked, withdrawing her hand and standing up.

"Couch, now." she instructed, pointing with her finger.

"Aye aye, madam." he joked, but obeyed promptly, sitting down with his legs spread and an expectant, excited look in his eyes and Asajj lost no time in straddling him, pressing her still-drenched core against his groin and her breasts against his chest.

"Now, where were we?" she asked, slipping her hand back in, and he was too busy with moaning to reply, which was fair enough for her.

She liked to banter with him, but occasionally she preferred him when he couldn't string together complete sentences.

"Yes, that's more like it..." she whispered.

She ground her hips against his and touched him and kissed him, and then when he was close to the edge she would pull back, keeping him maddeningly close but still preventing him from tipping over.

Their connection, opened wide on both sides, allowed her to play the game with more precision and effectiveness than ever, but meant also that she would be feeling whatever he was feeling, that she would be burning as much as he was, and of course Grievous had realised that and was trying to resist, and to stall for time, in the hope that she would capitulate first.

Good luck with that, she thought, but by the time that stubborn, over-proud, over-competitive son of a gun finally begged for release, she was not far behind in desperation, aching and almost sobbing, and yes, when she finally let him he screamed for her, but she screamed too, calling out his name as she held on to him with a death grip, trying to ride out their mind-blowingly intense joint climax.

"Did you really have to do that?" Asajj panted a while later.

"Couldn't... I couldn't give you a too-easy win, could I?" he rasped. His voice sounded even messier than usual, but judging from the half-lidded, fucked-out look on his face, he didn't seem worried at all.

"Not everything is about winning, do you know?" she retorted, but her words lacked bite. She had liked the challenge and its results; she was just complaining in principle.

"I know. But I also know you don't do boring. I pay attention." he retorted and Asajj couldn't help but laugh.

"You will never be boring, clanker boy. - she said, giving him a quick peck on a cheek - Do you mind if I stay a little longer? My legs are quite sore." she proposed.

"Do you want to..." he started, gesturing towards his lap, but even though he trailed off in clear embarrassment, she understood that he wanted her to curl on his lap, like back at the juice factory. Maybe she ought to tease him for being cuddly and slightly kittenish, she thought, but then again, she wanted that too.

"I do." she said and shifted her position so that she was sitting across his legs, with her head pillowed against his shoulder. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but at the same time it was exactly what she needed. She could hear his heart beat steady and regular and he was still purring slightly under his breath, and it sounded supremely soothing.

When her eyes started to close of their own accord, she didn't try to fight it. A quick nap wouldn't really hurt, she thought. Just a few minutes, to rest her legs and then she would be on her way home, she told herself.

When they woke up, startled by the rumble of thunder, it was two in the morning, and it was pouring down like the heavens had broken open.

"This is a hell of a summer storm..." Grievous commented, padding toward the big window.

"Damn! - Asajj cursed under her breath - Well, it looks like I'm staying the night." she commented, trying to sound chipper. She didn't really know how to feel about it.

She didn't want everyone in the Army to know about her arrangement with Grievous and walking the walk of shame the following morning surely wouldn't help, but at the same time she liked the idea. She had felt good both times they slept together, she had felt cherished and safe and peaceful. Like she actually belonged somewhere.

"You're welcome to half of the bed. I can't promise it's going to be comfortable, though. I have never slept in it." Grievous proposed, and he too was trying to dissimulate and pretend it didn't really matter, but she could tell he was tense and nervous, wary of rejection.

Thunder cracked again, louder and closer than before. The rain was like a solid sheet that would soak her as soon as she set foot outside and she was sleepy and still kind of sore from her wounds and their activities and maybe it was because of the endorphines still racing through her veins, but she really, really wanted to curl up somewhere warm and relax and just be normal for a while, a normal woman with the guy she liked.

"Alright. - she said - Lead the way."

The bed looked huge, but Grievous occupied most of the space, even more so because they piled up pillows and blankets behind his back to allow him to lie down without problems. Asajj didn't feel like complaining, though. She curled up alongside him and let her head rest on his chest, a leg thrown over his, and with the remaining blankets it felt cosy and warm and good... she could get used to something like that.

Maybe she even wanted to.


End file.
